


Gone Tribal

by Nanners (nanjcsy)



Series: Breaking Ground [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of a Plague, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Clan vs Tribes, Collapse Of Everything, Crimes & Criminals, Cults, Dark Humor, Human Ferals, Human Sacrifice, Human Trafficking, I am my own warning, Inspired by Badlands, Manipulation, Multi, Nannerverse, New Morals New Ethics, Rebuilding, Thramsay light - Freeform, Torture, Tribal Wars, Unreliable Narrator, deadly virus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 63
Words: 116,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/Nanners
Summary: There was an Apocalypse.It was HUGE. Very sad. A Plague. Tore through Westeroes and beyond.Targaryens were in charge then. Plague tore through them too.These are the survivors of Westeros years later.A special Thank You to MalcolmXavier for editing this story for me!





	1. The Exploding Rat Trick

Hot Pie rolled his eyes, then his head, and finally his shoulders. He was sore, tired, and achy.  He wanted to eat and sleep...which won't happen anytime soon for two reasons that he eyed with irritation.

The first reason is his companion – maybe his sister, at least that's what they call each other – she is impatient.  She's also hungry and Jeyne doesn't want to wait with Hot Pie to steal food; she wants to chase some of the large rats scurrying about.

The second reason Hot Pie is stuck waiting is the drunk rambling about in the junkyard. It is clearly owned by this staggering man or at least he claims that it is...  They had to climb under the three layered spiked fences just to sneak in.

Hot Pie wanted the man to finish his rambling babble, empty his bottle, and pass out so that they can steal some of the cans the man was eating from himself earlier.  There was even a box of crackers!

Despite her brother's warnings and gentle tugs, Jeyne wiggled forward – keeping just outside the man's line of sight – searching for a quick rat snack. Tensing as he watched, Hot Pie could only hope the drunk was too lost in his historical ramblings to notice his sister.

"We dinnit know...it was too late when we figgered it out!  Everyone jus' got sick...so fast!  My mom...my dad...my brother. All dead.  I dunno...my sister...she got sick....yeah...but...jus'...like some others...they went crazy.  Fuckin batshit!  Rabid an' she bit a cop and he got sick...it jus' kept goin'.  I was lucky, they said.  Cause I survived...here I am.  Alive!  And old...nobody to love or give a fuck...fucking ferals, cann...can...canimal..cannibals!  And crim..criminalsh all aroun...All thas left is beasts!"

The man threw his bottle in drunken despair and collapsed into a lounge chair whose steel legs were heavily rusted over.  As he sagged and started to breathe deeply, Jeyne began inching closer.

The thin, dirty girl had spied a rather large and juicy rat which was moving slower than others due to its weight. 

Hot Pie stared at the overstuffed rat with suspicion then hissed and signaled to Jeyne, who ignored him. She crept forward, moving faster than the rat.  Catching hold of it, Jeyne grinned and as she lifted it above her head to show Hot Pie her trophy, she felt the wrongness of it.

As Hot Pie yelled for her to throw it, Jeyne tossed the stuffed, twitching rat away from herself and curled low. The rat exploded into wet chunks that sprayed Jeyne and the drunk lurched upward.

"Eh?  FUCKING FERAL BITCH!  OUT!  GIT OUTTA HERE!  OOH, WAIT..YOU'RE A LIL' VIXEN..BEEN TIME SINCE I GOT THE MONEY TO FUCK A WHORE...WANNA PLAY WITH ME THEN?  HUH?  AREN YOU PRETTY...COME HERE!"

Jeyne ran and the drunk lurched forward, but he never caught up.  He was still cursing and threatening to get his gun as the two ferals escaped the fences without any dinner at all.

Hot Pie had to spend the next ten minutes consoling his shaking sister over the exploding rat trick. It was a common trick to deter ferals and common thieves alike. He wanted to yell at her for ruining their chance at a real meal but she was already so upset.

Jeyne curled into Hot Pie's chest and tried to pull herself together.  Hot Pie looked at the cracked pavement around them and shook his head.  There was nothing here for them.  It was a desolate, forgotten city that harbored drunks, addicts, and whores.

It was not a place for them to live or even survive in. They had to keep moving, no matter how tired and weak they were...

"We need to go.  North, South, West.  Anywhere but here.  Here is over.  We need to find new food and water supplies.  Jeyne?  We have to."

The girl wiped her eyes and gave Hot Pie a pleading look.

"We can wait a little more.  They could come back for us."

Hot Pie shook his head firmly.  It was quite common for tribes of ferals to wander off, leaving other ferals behind.  They generally never formed strong enough attachments to go back for the lost ones.  Ferals bonded with very few and simply tolerated the rest.

They traveled together only for the purposes of safety and strength in numbers. Hot Pie and Jeyne were foraging when the group they had always been with just left.

"Jeyne, it has been months.  No one is coming back.  We need to move, find a new group.  Find food and water.  Not just stealing from drunks.  We are going to get hurt.  We have only two daggers for weapons.  No guns.  We have nothing.  We have to go before we are found by bad others."

The girl nodded, but kept clutching the thin boy's arm.

"Which way?  Where do we go?  We don't know, don't even have a map.  What if we go near cannibals?  Or the bad ones with cars and guns?  Oh, farms!  I want to find a farm!  I want to pet a goat and eat real apples!"

Rolling his eyes again, Hot Pie shoved his sister and himself to their weary feet.

"A farm?  You have never seen one; how would you know it?  Goats and apples, huh?  Well, not west then. North is cold, but has lots of vegetation. Maybe more land and less people. But cannibals live out there. Wildlings. I did hear of other tribes like ours are out there too. South is warmer and has been using real electricity and stuff. Not as much farming, I guess though. Not sure our kind would live there much. The ones that do probably live very differently than us."

"With more food, I bet! Think of it! South has a MALL! It has steel stairs that MOVE, Hot Pie! And real lights to see at night! More food!  They have bakeries, food places, and houses. They all make trash and throw away real food! I have heard that! Remember the two drunks talking at the bonfire? They came from south and talked of it! How the ferals were so well fed that trash removal isn't really a problem! I heard them say it!"

A snort came from nowhere and both ferals jumped, ready to bolt. A very droll voice came from nearby on a spray-painted bench. Hot Pie and Jeyne didn't sense any danger from the small figure as he moved closer.

It was a small man — a little person — and he was reading a book in the night.  He had a bright flashlight and Hot Pie ached to steal it.  Those were very expensive around here; to be a feral an own such a thing would make him nearly legendary in his lost tribe.

"Let me help you out a little.  I have been to the North and I come from the South myself.  Here is what you must ask yourselves.  Who would you rather be either crushed or owned by?  The Lannisters of the South or the Starks of the North? Nice to meet you both, I am Tyrion Lannister.  You are quite clearly ferals, the first two I have ever had the honor of speaking with, in fact. What are your names?  Are you hungry?  I have some food I can share with you."  Jeyne gave a tiny growl and went very low, clutching her dagger tightly in case of a trick.  Hot Pie stared at the dwarf with distrust, but they were so hungry...

"My name is Hot Pie.  This is Jeyne. We got lost from our tribe.  There is no food, just exploding rats and bottles of everything to drink but water."  Tyrion nodded solemnly and with slow deliberate movements pulled items out of a knapsack.  He set out two water canteens and some fruit.  With wide eyes, Jeyne inched closer and spoke with hushed awe.

"Is...that..apples?  Real apples?"

"Yes. I got them just yesterday.  They aren't as nice as the ones I am used to, of course.  If you traveled a few more hours in the direction you are pointing, you would land in Walder Frey's territory. Full of your apples and goats, young lady. However, unless you planned on toiling in the fields for the repulsive old lizard, you don't get to have fruit.  You would be killed as soon as you entered the Riverlands without his permission."

It took a little more persuading, but soon enough, Tyrion was watching the two ferals eat apples with true joy.  He wished eating apples made him feel that good.  Well, at least helping these two starving orphans makes him feel a bit better.

Tyrion understood how these two felt. He had a home, but wasn't really wanted there.  He wasn't wanted or needed anywhere, in fact.  His dear father and sweet sister sneered when he announced his travels.  They honestly expected him to die outside of their circle of protection.

So far Tyrion has survived six months and traveled as far as he dares.  Which road to take next was the question. Did he wish to go impose upon the Starks and risk the Boltons to see how far North he could go?  To see Wildlings, cannibals and more?  Tyrion could go to the mountains, but then he would have to deal with that crazy cunt, Lysa.  He shuddered at the thought and smirked at the two ferals fighting over the last apple.  They both ate it, clashing teeth together until it was only a pathetic core.

"Would you two like to join me on my journey?  I could use safety in numbers and I am rather lonely in my wanderings. Perhaps we will run across your tribe or another one like it?  We just need to decide which direction to go."


	2. A Proper Nothern Woman

Cat wiped sweat from the back of her neck and could feel that her braid was soaked.  With a weary sigh, she started down the stairs, taking a moment to enjoy the rare breeze which came in from an open window.  Hearing shrieks and laughter, she stopped at the floor-length window and leaned out the frame.  

Cat looked from the third-story window out over the trees in her backyard and at the lake.  At every available water source, there was a child. The weather felt as hot as the middle of summer, but in truth, it was only early spring.  Cat saw children splashing about at the riverbanks, some of them were even on boats or kayaks.  The Stark children were on their own private part of the lake.

With a wooden dock, a large wooden raft set at a reasonable swimming distance, and mountains off in the distance, it was a pretty, peaceful picture.

Cat looked down at the frolicking group in the water and for just a moment, the stern lines of her face began to soften.  For that quick second, Cat's hard eyes filled with a sort of painful love and a rare smile tilted her lips.

Robb had Sansa on his shoulders, Jon had Arya upon his, and a wrestling contest full of laughter had ensued.  Theon was lazily floating on the raft until Bran swam over and splashed him.  Theon dove like a dolphin into the water, not only tossing Bran into the waves, but chasing down a shrieking and giggling Rickon as well.

The smile turned into a slight frown and Cat's eyes became stones as she looked at Jon and Theon. They were not hers and no matter how hard she tried, Cat simply could not bring herself to love either of them.  Not that anyone ever asked her to love the...only to care for them as a mother would.

A silly thing her husband has spat at her in the heat of countless fights over the years.

How can she care for them as a mother would without love?  A mother cares for her children well because she loves them.

And yet the Greyjoys were not a lovable people.  Theon tried to learn and follow all that Ned preached...all that Cat taugh, but he is still a shark out of water and certainly not a Stark...not a real Northerner.  In truth, it was hypocritical of Cat to hold it against him and she knew this all too well.

Most of the civilized North they have created is made of folks from who knows where.  And yet most of them have cast off their old thoughts and ways by now. They live in a peaceful, strict, and law-abiding manner or they live far enough away to avoid notice.

Theon is a shark.  He is the blood of pirates, of drug traffickers, and of crime lords. Cat would oft tell herself that his thefts from stores and experimentation with drugs and alcohol were a natural phase for any young man to go through.

She'd tell herself that his whoring, laziness, thievery, and all the rest were not her fault...that denying Theon the same closeness and support which Cat gave her children hadn't turned him into a degenerate.

Turning away from the window at the sight of Jon and Arya swimming after Robb and Sansa, Cat continued down the stairs. Every time she thought of Jon, guilt and anger warred deep within her.  Another child that was not hers and another child she could not love...

During the time that Ned was off with Robert, Stannis, Tywin, Roose and all the others, fighting to push crime away, to establish real governed lands for their children to live on, Cat kept faith.

When Ned returned with the small, terrified Theon, Cat was taken aback but accepting. But when he held Jon out to her, Cat backed up. He looked like none of them. A feral or a gypsy? A Wildling perhaps?

Yet the eyes, they bothered her deeply. Because Jon's eyes looked so much like her husband's eyes. Ned did not offer any reason, he did not say who the parents were.

"This is Jon. I am adopting him as my son."

Never mind that he never even asked his own wife if she would like to adopt. No, it was how he said it. His son. Not hers. It ate at Cat through the years and during fights or when she had a little too much wine, she would dare to ask.

Ned would never say a word of it, instead he would turn the fight into a different direction. That alone made it impossible for Cat to love this child. She cared for his well being, when Jon got very ill once, she never left his side.

Cat would read him stories, give him medicine and soup but she never held his hand or stroked his hair.

Jon and Theon received the exact lives as her own children. The same food, shelter, schooling, punishments and rewards. But she couldn't love them and it has always weighed heavy upon her.

Shaking off those disturbing thoughts, Cat clutched harder at the letter in her hand and went outside to find Ned. After wandering for a bit, she found Ned feeding his favorite horse an apple.

"Hey there. We received mail today from the South. From Robert. He, Cersei and Joff are coming for a small visit. They should be here in a few days. I will go back to town in the morning and put the word out for help. There are plenty of folks eager to make a little extra by doing some clean up for us. Why the hell would they want to visit, Ned?"

Cat looked at her imposing stern looking husband and knew the kids saw both of them that way. Strong, unyielding, cold, harsh, boring people. She wished they could understand that it wasn't always that way. But that they lived in such a way that these kids could never comprehend.

"We have not visited them since Robert and Cersei's wedding. They only visited us once when that virus hit the South and they got paranoid. Cersei hid her son and spent the whole time complaining of the rustic and cold living quarters. Beyond that, we see them at the Fair once a year. That has always been good enough, why are they coming here now? What has changed?"

Ned said nothing as he scanned the letter and Cat started to pace slightly.

"What if he is trying to start another war? Or wants to have some fucking expansion that he wants our kids to fight for since you are older now? I won't let Robert put my sons in any wars! We fought and we won. We have what we need and so does he. Why can't we continue to maintain the peace we have? I know that man, he always has an ulterior motive! And to bring his wife and son? Cersei and I aren't exactly friends and the stories I have heard of Joff make me sick!" 

Ned folded the paper and put it in his pocket before standing in the way of his pacing wife. He engulfed her with his arms and sat his bushy beard upon her neatly braided head.

"Calm yourself. It is too hot for pacing around. Our kids are smarter than we are. They are staying cool in the water while we continue to toil and sweat. Don't drive yourself crazy. Whatever Robert wants we can always say yes or no. Remember, we decided each governs their own land. Robert cannot order us anymore than we could order him. We are equals. Perhaps they are just really hot, even hotter than here and are coming just to use our lakes, streams and ponds? We have a lovely stretch of beach that they might-"

Giggling, Cat struck her husbands broad chest with a small fist then shoved herself into him, leaning up to give him a kiss.

 

That night during dinner, a scout dropped off a small note that made Ned grin wickedly at his family. The dinner table was loud and chaotic as always and it was his favorite part of the day to be honest.

His kids might find him stern and overly serious most of the time, but during dinner, Ned was known to be more relaxed. Ned was a very busy man. He was responsible for the running of the North and even though it is the Boltons that enforce Ned's laws, Ned himself works long hours.

Sometimes meals are the only times that Ned manages to see his family. So he insists that everyone sits at the table for breakfast and supper. Ned makes sure that unless there is an emergency, he always shows for those two meals at home.

During the meals, Ned does not lecture, punish or discipline unless he has to. He allows the minor food fights, the sassy talk and small arguments as well as joking, booming laughter. It soothes him, energizes Ned and reminds him why he works so hard.

"Someday, I will die of your relaxation!"

Cat would snap at Ned while scraping food off a wall or while trying to wash kids who were covered head to toe in food but he would only laugh.

As the scout left, Ned smiled at the curious faces and even waited until the fork fight between Arya and Jon ended before speaking.

"Well, it seems we are in for some entertainment."

Instantly the table erupted into screaming chaos. Sansa wanted to know if it was a traveling market, Bran and Rickon wanted to know if it was a roaming circus show and the older boys were hoping it might be a weapons trade show.

Chuckling, Ned shook his head.

"You are all wrong. However, I think Bran and Rickon came the closest. According to the scout we have a rather interesting group heading for our gates. On the long main road is a rather interesting party of travelers. A dwarf, two ferals, a young man and a rather suspicious looking older man bristling with weapons. They seem to be the bodyguard and servant of the dwarf." 

Cat dropped her napkin and stared at Ned incredulously.

"We only know one dwarf. And there is only one dwarf in the North or South that would be rich enough to afford a servant and bodyguard for traveling. Why would Tyrion show early and separately from his sister? I know that they don't care for each other but this is plain silly. And why would he bring two ferals here? I don't have the girls till tomorrow to help clean for Robert and Cersei...well Tyrion will just have to accept the chaos around him. Where do I stick the ferals if he stays overnight or longer? Oh dear..."

"Since Robert gave no mention of him in the letter, I assume they are separate travelers. Tyrion was off exploring according to the last letter I received from Robert. That was months ago. Tyrion must be stopping here to restock and rest perhaps? After all that exploring, I bet Tyrion will have some interesting stories for all of us. And since we had no forward notice of his coming, Tyrion will not care if the carpets are beaten just right. He won't make it here until late morning anyways. You do not have to impress Tyrion or even Cersei for that matter, love. Stop worrying and sit down, eat, please."

"Do you think he got kidnapped by cannibals and had to escape them before being made into a small stew? Or maybe he stole the two ferals as hostages? Because maybe a group of ferals kidnapped him and threatened to sell him to the cannibals?" 

Cat and Ned listened to the kids come up with reasons why the dwarf was coming and what he might tell them. Cat winced when Sansa kept ignoring the mystery of the dwarf and spoke only of meeting Joff.

Sighing, Cat helped their one live in maid help clear the table and wash the dishes.

"Thank you, Kyra. Do you think any of the town girls you are friends with would like to come help up here for a few days? I need to make this house shine before the Southern Queen of Snobbery descends upon us."

Smiling, Kyra handed Cat her fifth glass of wine, after putting away the last of the dishes and pans.

"Of course! Ros and Myranda could use the work. We are always grateful for the extras you offer us."

"Thank you, dear. Why don't you take the rest of the night off. Let's leave the floors for tomorrow. The dogs will eat anything Bran and Rickon left on the floor anyway. It is simply too hot in here and it will drive Ned crazy if we turn on a fan. You know how he is about conserving our electricity and generators. And we both know when the Baratheon's get here, Ned will suddenly have this place lit like a town hall and have air conditioners running as if we haven't a care."

Krya giggled and patted her employer's arm.

"I am going to the pub for a drink and I'm sure the girls will be there. Are you sure you don't wish to join me? We are going to sit at the water later, cool our swollen feet. You are always welcome."

As always, Cat politely declined and Kyra went to change her sweaty clothing to have a night out. Cat pretended she didn't see Theon's recent flirting with Kyra. Now she watched out the window as he left with Kyra, heading for the town, Robb in tow.

Cat went upstairs to discover only Rickon and Bran were upstairs getting ready for bed. Her other children were missing. Sighing, Cat went to put on sandals. It was a usual nightly problem as the kids turned to teens and young adults.

She went outside and walked slowly, looking to round up her girls. Theon and Robb were twenty one, Jon was eighteen. Cat wasn't willing to chase after them at their ages.

However, Sansa was sixteen and a half, as she liked to remind her mother, almost seventeen.

Old enough that Cat and Ned had to allow her to start dating and going to parties. Sansa was boy crazy like her friends and all of them loved music and dancing. Whenever Sansa can convince her parents to allow it, they have a party. Or a dance at the school.

Cat found Sansa daydreaming on the dock, her feet swinging in the water back and forth. She sent her daughter in to study for a test in the morning. School was one of the first things Cat had established once their Northern stakes were confirmed.

All children of the North were promised an education. Cat found teachers, lured them, promising jobs, security, shelter and food. All that anyone really had wanted by then. The school was very large and they had buses that brought kids from all over the Northern settled areas.

It was Cat's largest noticed contribution to the North. That made her laugh when she thought back to days of digging trenches with blisters all over her hands to make latrines for everyone.

When she recalled spending hours patrolling with a rifle, killing Wildlings and cannibals that attempted to attack while the men were off hunting.

Or the impossible task of feeding, clothing, sheltering the kids, adults, all wandering fugitives looking for this dream that Robert, Ned and the other men promised.

Except while the men spoke and fought, they left the women to figure out how to start and create this haven. It was good that the men secured the lands. But they left the woman to the dirty work of setting it up while they congratulated themselves.

Sighing, Cat watched Sansa head for the house in a full pout and she went to find Arya next. Heading towards the barn, Cat heard the whinny of a horse and Arya swear. Cat and Ned enjoyed owning and breeding horses.

Most used horses now for light travel. Cars were used for long distances or for carrying more than a horse can take. Only main roads were cleared and protected. Many former streets and highways were grown over, rusted cars with remains still in them under the growing foliage.

All the children worked with the horses and many rented or bought only from the Starks, so they were always adding to their stock.

Arya was practicing her little sword while the horses seemed to be advising her. She put up more resistance than her sister, but ultimately went to put her sword away and head for bed.

Just having turned fifteen, Arya has still not come out of the tomboy phase. If anything, gaining a bit of a figure only made Arya dress even weirder and gain a more daring attitude.

Cat's one comfort was Arya at least wasn't boy crazy. After herding Arya into the house, Cat lay on the couch with her wine and began planning a list of things to be cleaned before the big visit. And wondered about Tyrion and his group that will be there by morning.

Would Tyrion be offended if she offered the barn as place for the ferals to sleep? Does the dwarf understand he is probably being robbed blind by the dirty things? Maybe she should hide the good silver until they leave?

Cat fell asleep, her mind still worrying until she was out cold.


	3. Caught Between Bad And Worse

Thump. Thump. THUMP!

Joff groaned softly and held his hands tightly over his eyes. An unbearable headache was destroying his sanity, not that much was left.

He has taken enough ibuprofen to blow out his liver. Took two of his Mother's hidden painkiller stash. All to no avail.

Now he has a terrible headache, a worry of liver failure and feels stoned.

The reason for his headache wasn't showing any signs of ceasing and Joff wonders if he is too dizzy to get his new crossbow. Nah, both parents would object to Joff trying to kill them. They always do and most strenuously. And LOUDLY.

His head wouldn't stand the extra abuse and would explode.

Bad enough to be stuck in this tin fucking can with bad air conditioning for days on end. Worse that he is stuck in this can with his parents. Add to that a silent sullen driver and guard that only refers to himself as the Hound.

Joff often uses the Hound as a way to scare or impress other kids but in truth, he could tell the man despised them all. There was outward respect for the most part. But when pushed beyond his limit, the Hound will turn and bite like any dog.

Thump. Thump. THUMP!

All they do is fucking argue. Joff has skinned animals that screeched less. It gives Joff a headache every time but this was worse than usual. Because it was never ending and there was no where to go. He cannot escape them.

Even when they stop and stretch their legs, he can hear them no matter how far he wanders. They argue over everything, well no. Almost everything. Certain things aren't ever mentioned, like his dead little siblings.

They can argue over Joff though. And each other and every person left in the world. And they always do it so LOUDLY! Joff often wished one of them would hit the other. He has a feeling that would spark off a fantastic battle that would end in both their gory deaths.

He can't believe that his father is dragging him North hoping to marry him to some strange girl. She will stink of horse, be dirty and probably can't read but can beat up any boy. Joff tried declining and both parents lectured him, locked him in his room.

Joff caved when they took away his weapons and projects. Fine, he would marry this girl if he had to and then promptly forget her. Since his parents wouldn't allow him to play his own way with the girl, why bother with her at all?

Sighing, Joff forced himself to his feet and staggered to grab a bottle of water. Ignoring him, his parents continued to argue.

Blah blah blah. His mother accusing his father of being paranoid.That no one was plotting against him, that they can handle any problems they are having without asking the North for help.

Joff wandered back to his couch and lay back down.

His father yelled that of course Cersei didn't see the problem, one of the problems was her own damned family! That he knows Tywin is sabotaging his deals, his pacts with criminal gangs that kept them happy but out of his main city and nearby villages.

This fight has been happening since they left and it will continue until they arrive at the Stark's home. Joff doesn't think his sanity will last that long. He tried fantasizing about his first human kill.

Thump. Thump. THUMP.

Then he heard the Hound swear loudly and the whole RV decided to toss them into the walls and ceiling. Joff's whole body was going thump, thump now.

THUMP. SMASH!

Then all Joff could see was his father's bloated angry face. His face was nearly touching Joff's.

Joff noticed his father's head seemed to be without a body. He coughed and tried to move, hoping, praying about his mother. Another cough, not from him, from his mother. Dreams, hopes and prayers crushed, he tried to crawl forward.

"Mother? Are you alright? HOUND! Can you hear me? Are you alive?"

"No, kid. I died. Now shut up and leave me to it."

Joff smirked slightly at the gruff response and then his mother must have seen her husband. Cersei let out a surprised and horrified scream.

Thump. Thump. THUMP.

Fuck. Headache's back. Headless father. Crashed in the middle of nowhere.

Halfway between North and South with a screaming overprotective mother, a sullen Hound and a headache.


	4. Heavy Metal

"Hand itchy again? Happens when you're nervous. Can't imagine what could be upsetting you."

Jaime's lips twitched at Brienne's dry tone and he rubbed his gold hand against his jeans to quell the phantom itch of a lost right hand. 

"Not all of us have a talent for standing as if we have a large stick up our ass like you do. And you don't have to worry if a fight breaks out. You are as large as Sandor and two deadly hands to fight with. If my left hand goes out of commission or more than one person attacks me at once...my golden hand will be shoved up my ass. Then I'll be able to stand that straight with such a somber, fierce look. I look at your demeanor, your attitude and hell the way you fight...I'll never understand why you aren't one of Ned Stark's top officers."

Brienne snorted and yawned, stretching as the sounds of machinery approaching, as if she weren't as apprehensive as Jaime.

"I still can't believe your father is letting the Mountain inside the main city like this. When Robert and Cersei find out, they are going to send us packing right along with your father this time. I don't want to live with the elderly, in that golden fucking nursing home but it's either that or you and I will have to go see Ned. I don't like the cold, I don't like dealing with the fucking barbarians. I suppose we could join one of those cults..."

Jaime knew the real reason that his best friend despised the North and he can't say he blames her. He doesn't care for it either and knows that if all goes sideways, they still wouldn't seek sanctuary there.

It was during the last leg of the war for land and lawful living.

The two of them were part of a larger force sweeping through the borders of both South and North. They were burning and purging the last of the criminal and scavenger tribes from their boundaries. Jaime and Brienne got separated from the others.

At first when a small party on horseback rode up to them, they were not suspicious or afraid. The men carried the Bolton sign of a flayed man and Jaime thought they would be safe with them.

They lured the two with food, liquor and a secure campsite. When Jaime and Brienne were well fed and relaxed with bad wine, the men showed their own true colors.

Tying Jaime to a tree, the lead man, they all called him The Goat, ordered that they take Brienne behind the trees. It took all six men to beat Brienne down and all six of them raped her.

For extra insult, The Goat had the men untie Jaime and they all took turns beating the enraged man. Finally, they grew bored of it and the repulsive leader used an axe to chop off Jaime's right hand.

They left Jaime lying there, screaming as he held his bleeding stump and Brienne lay naked, out cold. It was a miracle that they survived and it took them weeks to find their way back South.

It would have been easier to keep going North and recieve help from the Starks but they both had a new grown hatred for the North and found it easier to risk their lives going South.

"Stop daydreaming. Here they come."

Jaime snapped out of bad memories to watch new ones come to life. He should never have allowed his father and his cronies in the gates after his sister and her husband left but...it was his father. And with his father came new orders that contradicted everything else. As usual.

"There was a reason that your sister had Tywin and Olenna stuck on the furthest point of the civilized South. This meddling bullshit, the refusal to accept how things must work now. They are used to an old world that none of us can really recall. They are trying to take over here and make their old ways become our ways. What if the reason they let Gregor here is to make sure Robert and Cersei can't come back at all?"

Grinning without a bit of mirth, Jaime watched as the black, skull adorned tank rolled to a stop along with a truck that still had a faded S.W.A.T. sign upon it. Jaime spoke while keeping his eyes upon the unwelcome newcomers.

"Or what if my father saw how loyal and helpful Sandor is to my sister, maybe he figures Sandor's older brother might become as faithful?"

Brienne had to force her mouth in a straight line but quickly responded as the men began to exit the vehicles and walk forward.

"Uh huh. Except for the fact that the only reason Sandor came to work for the Baratheon's is because of Gregor. Gregor burnt half of Sandor's face for refusing to murder some little kid. Remember when he was brought in on a stretcher? Sandor was just lucky that mercy was still a Southern standard then. I swear the only reason he survived and trained so hard to become the Baratheon's bodyguard was to piss off Gregor."

"Well, it should be one hell of a reunion for the Clegane brothers when my sister heads back. And don't say "if", it is a definite. My father might be a cold hearted evil bastard, but he is still our father. There is no way he would let Cersei or Joff be harmed if he can help it. Robert, that's a different story."

"Are you really that blind? Tywin has never once shown love to anyone that I can remember. True, I didn't know any of you when your mother was alive. But you told me he was a cold fish and never around even before the plague hit your home. And when your nephew and niece were slaughtered, his advice to Cersei was to buck up."

Jaime would have given a retort but Gregor and his men were approaching them. The look on Gregor's face alone made Jaime wish to unload his entire gun into the man's bald head.

A hateful smirk upon the man's face as his small eyes began to hungrily search out the city as if it were a buffet table to be sampled.

"Great job you have all done with this place. And to think your old man has invited the jackals inside. Poor golden boy, you don't like the taste of crow in your gullet? Is it sticking too much for a greeting? I bet it is. That's alright, you don't need to talk or fight, boy. Just keep looking pretty and be our delicate escort to your daddy, sweetheart."

Jaime couldn't decide which hurt worse. His neck, trying to crane his head up to look Gregor in the eyes or his pride upon the blistering taunts. Before he could find something suitable to respond with, Gregor looked Brienne up and down.

"Ahh, Bri, you have grown better with age! Why have you never left this shiny toy soldier for me? Every time we run into each other, I offer for you to join us. You don't belong with these losers, you belong with others as strong as you."

"Stop trying to be flattering. Your brother tried to ask me out. When I said no he tried to beat me down instead. I wiped the road with him and I am willing to do the same for you. Name the day and time."

Gregor shook his head in pretend sadness.

"You wound me, Bri! To compare me to my loser of a baby brother? I should take you up on your offer, if I was smart. If I win, you will have to not only date me, but join my crew. And if you won, what would you ask for?"

Staring up at Gregor, Brienne gave an icy smirk.

"I would ask for you and your whole tribe to never come near the South again. Upon pain of death."

Jaime got between the two of them and tried to offer a smile up to Gregor. He felt tiny between the two of them and quite ridiculous. As if to confirm this, Gregor's men began to chuckle.

Distantly, Jaime wondered if this is how Tyrion always felt when his sister had sarcastically appointed Tyrion to be the official greeter at the gates. No wonder why his little brother finally decided to go adventuring instead of continuing the humiliating job indefinitely. 

"Tywin invited you here for a meeting. Not to make challenges or insults. We are to escort you to the meeting hall, so let's do that before my father and his cronies change their minds. They are old and fickle, it would be terrible for you if they changed their minds. After all, you are technically banished criminals inside enemy territory."

Giving a pitying look to Brienne and then to Jaime, Gregor then doubled the humiliation before relenting. By patting the top of Jaime's head then giving a courteous sweep of his arm.

"Of course, little golden boy. It must be awful hard to watch the bigger, stronger folk chatting above and around you. Don't worry, unlike others, my men and I don't judge you as weak because of your golden hand. No, we pity you because as soon as you lost one part of you, you allowed it to weaken the rest of you. Lead onward, take us to your father, boy."

Jaime cleared his throat and began to stiffly walk forward. Gregor walked next to him, Brienne on the other side of Gregor. This allowed his men to crowd behind Jaime and Brienne to unsettle them. And they were determined to do an excellent job of it.

Another bald man, but closer to Jaime's size came up behind Brienne to leer at her.

"Hey, listen. Whatever excitement you receive from letting Jaime fuck you with that gold hand, I can do better. You haven't seen what my flexible fingers can do for you."

Brienne gave a bark of laughter.

"Polliver, trust me, you don't have what I need. What my girlfriend can do with her tongue, you'd never be able to mimic."

Jaime smiled.

"She'd crush you anyway, Polliver. Lucky for you, Petyr's whorehouse will serve anyone for the right price. If they let my dwarf brother in, they can find a whore that would fuck you. Want to borrow my golden hand just in case that want extra for letting you in?"

Polliver frowned when Gregor gave a glance at him, ending any retort he might have had. However, Jaime and Brienne had matching smiles as they escorted the group towards the meeting hall.

 

The room was stifling and Petyr only knew that he and Varys would die together. Both were too stubborn to ever let the other do something first or last. Tywin, Kevan and Ollenna looked cool as cucumbers, no sweat beads, no flushing of the skin.

It was quite obvious that Varys and Petyr were soaked, that they were melting. Yet to say anything, to mention that the room offers air conditioning would be to bring derision. The elders would see this as weakness.

Petyr did not see himself or Varys as traitors to the Baratheons. It wasn't them that allowed entrance, it was Jaime. What else would Petyr and Varys do but what they have always done? Acted in their own self interests since no one else ever would.

They were helpful, welcoming, forthcoming and agreeable. If Tywin was truly here to take over, it wasn't as if Petyr and Varys could command an army to kick him out. That was the Baratheon's job, not theirs.

The Baratheons allowed Petyr and Varys seats on the Council. The seats were hard earned as were the steps to reach them.

Petyr started as a pimp in the city and rose to own the most notorious whorehouse in the South. And he was the person to make both the South and North accept prostitution as legal.

Slowly, he opened other businesses as well. A pub, a restaurant then a lending bank. He discovered politics suited him as did becoming the Treasurer of the South. And for every step up that Petyr took, Varys seemed to match.

Varys was someone who always seemed to hear what he shouldn't and have a knack for finding profit in secrets. He kept or sold them as need be, with a cold focused eye on the future. He owned what Petyr didn't, most of the merchants and traders in the South.

He quickly became the South's Trade Ambassador. In spite of the constant challenge and competition, Petyr and Varys were friends. No one else in the South would truly consider either of these two a friend. They were usually regarded with begrudging respect but not true friendship.

The only other person who seemed to consider Varys a real friend would be Tyrion Lannister. Petyr had no other friend but he had a wife that actually did love him. Or at least her crazed mind told her that she did.

Right now, Petyr noticed that the three elders were not looking at him and Varys with even a shred of respect, never mind any friendship.

"You two are both supposed to advice Robert and Cersei. They may lead in the spotlight, but we all know it is those under the leaders that truly move things. So what happened? They drank, they fought and waved pretty while you did...what? Nothing? Look at the state of things since we retired. We have had no choice but to return and try to assist my daughter and her sad excuse of a husband. The man knew how to talk and fight but he couldn't rule. You both should have tried harder to persuade them, to advise them. Instead, you used their neglect to your advantages. Clever but that ends here and now. You will do as we advise now. And that order stands for when my daughter returns."

Petyr and Varys noted Tywin only mentioned his daughter's name but nodded in agreement to their newly ordered allegiance.

Ollenna shook her head in disgust, glaring at the two younger, sweaty men.

"Look at you two. Sitting there like naughty children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Did you think when we went further South that news wouldn't reach us? We weren't banished and imprisoned, you idiots! We chose to retire thinking that we had done enough for others to take the reigns. And shame on us for thinking that. Shame on you for allowing these things to happen without lifting a finger!"

Kevan leaned forward and spoke in a serious yet sad baritone.

"Stannis left a good steady life here with his wife and daughter to join the Fire Gods. He was allowed to join a cult and wander the land side burning innocent people? Who let the priestesses in the cities to seduce him in the first place? And was it any mystery to anyone who burned Renly alive just before Stannis and his family fled with the cult? Robert was just lucky that the fire god didn't demand more family sacrifices. At least not yet, who knows, by now Stannis might have burnt his daughter alive. We have also heard reports that the Greyjoys have been allowed to raid the coastline. Not anywhere near Varys's trade of course or anywhere near your two ships, Petyr. Isn't that interesting?"

Petyr cleared his throat and shared a quick doomed look with Varys. If these three decide that Petyr and Vays would make good scapegoats, they were as good as banished. It wouldn't matter if they were actually guilty or not.

The doors opened and let in a burst of even hotter air along with the worst criminal tribe leader the South had ever fought. Petyr never thought he would feel relief upon seeing Gregor Clegane but it got the eyes off of himself.


	5. Not Our Kind

Tyrion looked at the terror upon the feral little faces and tried to make his booming voice dementedly cheerful.

"Ah, well then! Look at the huge wooden doors just open so wide, to let us in, to let anyone in that needs shelter! Friendly, no?"

Jeyne shook her head and pulled an apprehensive Hotpie behind her, pulling out her dagger. Her eyes scanned the disgusted faces and ready held rifles from atop the large open gates.

"Not open for ferals. Not for us. We can wait out here until you finish your visit, Tyrion. We have dirty feet, no shoes. They will see us and shoot at us to make us run or worse! What if they put us in cages and chains? Or sell us? Ferals get caught and sold all the time, I heard of that in the junk city!"

Both dirty narrow faces now nearly glowed in terror. There was no worse fear to a feral than being locked up or sold into chains. Tyrion took a calming breath and tried again.

"My dear girl, we are all filthy. And if you noticed, Podrick has so much rope and cloth tying up his shoes, they really aren't shoes anymore. Look at Bronn! He looks like any criminal you could run across on the Southern badlands. We all look awful and the Starks will accept us regardless."

With a guffaw, Bronn looked down at Tyrion with a look of mixed affection and irritation. His usual thoughts concerning his employer and friend.

"Are you kidding us? They will let you in because of who your family is, who your sister and father are. And because they have a shitload of kids and everyone knows kids love a good clown or dwarf! As for us poor pitiful misunderstood souls, we all will recieve a space in the back of their darkest horse barn to sleep in."

Tyrion's face darkened as much as that horse barn would be and he spoke solemnly to them all.

"I swear to you I would not allow that insult to stand. If they offer any of MY companions less than the utmost courtesy, we all will leave as a group. We will head over to the Bolton estate instead. Now true, they do tend to hunt and flay folks, but Roose Bolton has too much fearful respect of the Starks, Baratheons and Lannister to injure any of us. We would have a creepy, unsettling rest and then be on our way to find you a new feral group. Since the Boltons are further North, I bet they would have word of what tribes roamed about and how we can find them!" 

Grimacing, Podrick shook his head and shivered.

"I'd rather stay in the Stark's horse barns than in the Dreadfort! Let's try our chances here first. Jeyne, Hotpie, I will guard you the whole time, I swear it!"

The stares of all who saw them diminished Jeyne and Hotpie but Tyrion whistled a song and walked as tall as he could. Bronn walked just behind Tyrion and Podrick walked just behind the ferals.

"Tyrion! Good morning to you! How nice of you to give us a surprise visit!"

With a smile full of gratitude, Tyrion looked up at Cat, who approached with a frosty but proper smile. The woman has never liked any Lannister but Cat never treated Tyrion like any less than another Lannister. For that, he always respected her.

"Cat, you are a sight for my travel weary eyes! I have seen so many new and amazing sights, but nothing as wondrous as you. I will never solve your mystery. How you manage to run this whole place, have all those kids and yet, never a single hair out of place. My sister would be envious of that."

"Flattery only works in the South, Tyrion. You know that. Now, you must be in dreadful want of a bath, meal and a bed. First, please introduce me to your companions and then we shall see to all of your comforts."

Aware of the social awkward situation that Tyrion was causing this proper Northern woman, he gave a gentle apologetic smile.

"Cat Stark, please meet my companions. This is Bronn, my bodyguard and friend. This is Podrick, he was apprenticing with my cousin Lancel. Sadly, when Lancel died during the Mountain's last attack the year before, they blamed my poor buddy. He has chosen to be my traveling companion rather than be banished to work for the elders. Could you imagine the horror of this young man forced to spend his days bringing tea and cheese to Olenna Tyrell?" 

This brought a wry smirk to Cat's lips and she nodded slightly.

"That would be a terrible sin, indeed. Of course, if Margeary visits her grandmother as often as I hear, Podrick might be missing out."

With a small discreet cough, Tyrion peeked up at Cat with mild mischief.

"Podrick would find himself ignored by Margeary and stalked by Loras instead, I think. Margeary spends time visiting her grandmother, but most of the time she resides in the main city. I believe she shares an apartment with Brienne, Jaime's best friend. It is a one bedroom."

Cat blushed slightly and then gave Tyrion a chastising gaze.

"I am sure that Margeary and Brienne do not wish us to gossip of their relationships. Now, you still have two friends you have not introduced me to."

"Yes, of course. Rude of me, sorry. Cat, the young lady hiding behind Bronn, is Jeyne. The young lad hiding behind Jeyne is named Hotpie. I found them lost in the junk city. They were abandoned by their tribe and were quite starved when I found them. We have taken them into our merry group and are hoping to find another tribe for them to join. I know it is hard to tell under the travel-wear, but they are about Arya's age."

More children to be thrust upon Cat's mercy and feral ones at that. A mother loves all children but Cat was determined not to take in these ones too. She will give them better lodgings than any feral would expect to deserve because they are kids.

But when Tyrion leaves, they will go with him no matter what.

"I am pleased to meet all of you. Let's get you all cleaned and fed. Tyrion, I am not sure if you know this, but your brother in law sent us a letter. He is on his way here with your sister and nephew. Due to this, I am afraid we are in a small state of chaos getting ready. So if you do not mind terribly, I will offer you a small guest house for yourself and your friends. However, I insist you share meals with us. Ned and the children would demand the same."

 

Tyrion found it amusing how suspiciously the ferals looked at the guest house.

They climbed in and out of every window and door to make sure they had escape routes if need be. It was decided Tyrion and Podrick would share a bedroom, the ferals would use the other. Bronn would sleep upon the sofa bed in the small living room of the guest house.

It was really a small log cabin just beyond the main house but before the horse barns. They could easily see the water and it was the first place the ferals said they wished to visit. Tyrion grinned at them and waved his arms.

"Wait, you don't need the outside water to get clean. There is a fully equipped bathroom here, shower included and a toilet."

Hotpie looked at Tyrion with a look of hurt dignity and his sister mirrored that look.

"We are ferals, not savages. Ferals are house-trained, you know. We use bathrooms when we aren't being chased out of them."

Suitably chastised, Tyrion stepped back and felt even smaller as the ferals swept past him. A knock at the door saved him and he raced to answer it before Bronn could.

"Hi! Not sure if you remember me from the Fair or not. I see you there every year."

Tyrion smiled at the girl holding a small bag and invited her in.

"Yes, Arya Stark, isn't it? Of course. You won an archery contest at the Fair last year, if I recall. How nice to see you again."

"I can't stay, but I'm glad you remember me. I cannot wait to meet you all officially at supper. Mother asked me to drop these off for your feral friends. It's just some clothes and shoes to wear at dinnertime. I hope it fits them, if not let us know. There are enough of us that someone's outfit is bound to fit. Supper will be in the side yard in an hour or so. Dad is all excited for a reason to fire up the grill and have a barbecue."

"Ah, lovely. We are looking forward to it. I don't think Jeyne or Hotpie have ever had a proper barbecue before. We shall see you then."  


Bronn waited until Tyrion shut the door before drawling out,  


"I bet when your sister gets here it won't be a barbecue. It will be a nice air conditioned indoor meal that Mrs. Stark will carefully bake herself. Can't wait though...after all, meat heated over open flames outdoors is something both me and the ferals rarely get to eat."

Tyrion grinned.  


"Ah, yes but! At least they won't be serving rat or pigeon on a stick and sometimes that can make all the difference!"

Bronn suddenly stopped his wandering and his voice changed, melted like chocolate in the sun.  


"I have just forgiven the Starks any and all slights. Please, let all the gods that don't want to fuck us up the ass, let them all bless the Mr and Mrs Stark of the North. Tyrion, a wet bar. Whiskey, scotch, where the fuck did they find scotch? And wine, a full bottle of your favorite shitty wine."  


Only the gentle but firm intervention of Podrick kept Bronn and Tyrion from arriving to dinner blitzed. However both were buzzed enough to be relaxed and witty.  


  


As Tyrion predicted, there were no scavengers on a stick for supper. Instead it was thick hamburgers with even thicker slices of cheese. As well as spicy pork sausages and chicken wings. Grilled ears of corn, lettuce, onions and tomatoes as well as an impressive potato salad.

"Well, I see that I don't need to ask how your farms are doing. And Ned, I must say, I never did peg you for a cook, but you have done this meal amazing justice."

Ned thanked Tyrion but flushed at the same time. Tyrion looked at the ogling children and smiled, addressing them.  


"Then again, I will confess that the real reason that Jeyne and Hotpie had no shoes was because I ate them out of hunger!"  


They all laughed and the tension eased a little more. When the ferals showed for dinner, the kids looked mildly disappointed. Clean and with regular clothing, they looked like very thin teens with social complexes. Which is really what they were in Tyrion's mind.  


Bran and Rickon had been the first to ask awkward questions. It was forgivable, they were only twelve and ten. 

"My name is Rickon. I have only ever seen ferals at The Fair and never really close up. Are you bad thieves? Is that why your tribe left you? Do you have any cool weapons?"

"Shut up asking stupid things! It's my turn to talk. I'm Bran and I want to know something. Is it true that you can climb walls and ceilings like spiders do? That all ferals are like those ninjas in my comic books. I keep hearing that over and over but I can't believe it's really true. Is it?"  


"Children, please let our guests enjoy their meal and don't harass them."  


Cat's voice was gentle but her eyes were not as she stared down her two youngest and rudest children. Tyrion was proud of his feral friends, they didn't act insulted at all. Of course, they were intimidated by all the noise and chaos.  


Podrick had managed to get Jeyne to let him tie her massive snarled hair back. It bushed out and kinked it's way to her hips. Tyrion and Podrick each tried to assist her in brushing it but at the pulling of roots, Jeyne quit the grooming attempts.  


Hotpie started shouting at them as soon as they offered to try and comb out his hair. It remained a curly, riotous  


Hotpie and Jeyne were painfully obvious in how slowly and carefully they ate. In spite of hunger and such delicious food, they were eager to impress and not embarrass their new friends. This only made Tyrion feel even more protective of them.  


"I can assure you, boys, that my friends will never steal from you. Now, as for your other concern, I must tell you, it's true. At night in the junk city, I would watch them scale straight up abandoned buildings while we three mere mortals had to climb stairs. It would startle me when I would wake up and find them sleeping on the ceiling just above me. It was worse when they got thirsty and drank water. It was a very nerve wracking night for me, I can tell you. It is very hard to hold an umbrella over yourself while sleeping."  


The boys laughed and Sansa giggled. Arya grinned and asked if the ferals knew how to use weapons. Tyrion and Cat rolled their eyes at the same time. Jeyne stopped nibbling on a chicken wing and nodded.  


"Yes. Hotpie has a sling shot and he is very good. I use a dagger, used a gun until it was stolen. I was taught how to use a sword, bow and arrow, plus I can do a little bit of karate and street fighting. In our tribe we had lots of teachers to learn things from. We didn't spend as much time learning to steal as we did learning to survive. We only stole when we had to but I would fight to keep what was ours. We fight to keep ourselves safe."  


This seemed to hush all for a moment and then Ned quietly excused himself as a man seemed to be discreetly signaling him. Tyrion squinted and saw it was Jory Cassel. A man who has followed the Starks for as long as Tyrion can remember.  


The man's face was lined with worry and moments later Robert returned to the table but remained standing before it.

"Tyrion, are you sure you had no idea of your sister's impending visit? Jaime didn't maybe write you and tell you of her destination or any extra stops that they meant to make?"  


Tyrion shook his head.  


"No. I haven't spoken with my family in months. I left half a year ago and have spoken to no one from there, including my brother."  


"Ah. It seems that they have gone missing. I tried to contact them by radio and got only static. Contacted the South I was told they left days ago. My scouts should have seen them by now. For some reason, I couldn't get a confirmation that any scouting party would be sent out by their own people. This concerns me greatly."

Tyrion sat up straighter than even Cat did and he stared back at Ned intently.

"Did they tell you if my father was present? Did you speak personally with Jaime, Petyr or Varys? Or Brienne at least? If not and if they sounded standoffish, I guarantee you, no one is looking for them. If anything, I would wonder if my father hasn't had a hand in them going missing. I do not bear much love or fondness for my sister but I would never wish her dead. Now her hell spawn of a son, he should have been destroyed years ago. But a mother's love can forgive and be blind, I suppose."

Tyrion wondered why Cat looked so angry at his last statement. Ned nodded heavily.

"I had a feeling something terrible was happening for Robert to wish to come here. And to want Joff and our Sansa to marry so fast and so young. But Tyrion, about the boy, he can't truly be that bad. I mean, yes, we have heard rumors but..."  


With eyes full of honest horror, Tyrion, Podrick and Bronn all shook their heads wildly.  


"With all due respect, Ned, the rumors are true. I personally beat that blonde shit rabid nephew of mine for skinning a puppy alive! Bronn here carried a young maid, struck with four arrows to a doctor. She bled to death a short time later but those arrows seemed to find their way home. It was no coincidence that Joff had received a crossbow a day earlier. And Podrick was sick for days when-"  


"That is enough!"  


Cat was pale and on her feet, her hands clutching the table like claws.  


"This is no conversation for a family dinner, nor for children at all. Sansa, Ned, I will have you know that if what Tyrion tells us is true, there will be no wedding. You will not be subject to living with such a sick cruel person. And I do mean sick! I had my suspicions during that last virus that sent them running here with the boy! Never letting our doctors look at him, or even us! They left in such a hurry, the second they heard the virus had passed the South again. It was after that the rumors began. And no one ever said what happened to those smaller children, Ned! I have always wondered if Joff did it. No matter, there is to be no wedding. Hear me, Ned? Sansa? My final word."  


Ned sighed as Cat stormed away, with Sansa wailing after her.  


"Mother, wait! It might be just nasty rumors! Tyrion drinks a lot, maybe he saw things wrong! Mother!"

Ned shook his head wearily.   


"I am going to take a scouting group and see if we can find Robert and his family. But I agree with you and my wife, Tyrion. No wedding will happen. Robb, why don't you come with me and Jory? Jon, I expect you and Theon to keep our family safe and secure. Tyrion, you and your friends are welcome to stay as long as you wish. I am sure my children will keep you all entertained."

"Thank you, Ned. Good luck and stay as safe as you can. I do hope you can find my sister and Robert. They are not the best relatives nor the best of leaders, but they are way better than the alternatives. You know how disastrous it would be for Tywin or Olenna to be running the South. I shall wait here to find out whether or not you find them if I can. Please understand however, that as soon as I am sure they are heading this way, I will be taking my leave. My sister and I don't get along well enough for public viewing."  



	6. Excuse The Fuck Outta Me?

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?"

Cersei stared up at Sandor who was actually screaming in her face.

"How dare you? You do not ever yell at me. You do not ever take something from me. Apologize and give me back the weapon."

"SO FUCKING SORRY BUT I DON'T WANT YOU LETTING YOUR SON FILL US WITH ARROWS! YOU ARE NOT GIVING A CROSSBOW TO AN INFECTED!"

"YOU ARE FIRED!"

Sandor laughed wildly and then gave them both the finger in such a jaunty manner, it seemed for a moment the man might be on the verge of a small jig.

"Great. I am still not giving your sociopath this crossbow. We are an hour out from the closest Northern Scouts. I'll send them back for you and give Ned Stark the fucking crossbow to hold for you. Look at that spike, woman! See that, sticking out of the road? That means this is a fucking trap, okay? I don't know if it was just to cause a crash or if there's more coming. My guess is more is coming. Pretty sure the Starks don't play that way and the Boltons can't unless they have Ned's say so. Wonder who wants you all dead, Cersei? Want to bet your daddy is already back home? Want to bet my brother won't find a way in now? I think you know how well that will go. You need to get to Ned and fast, not spend all day dodging arrows from your deranged son. Keep on the road, don't leave it or your son will lead the other cannibals right to you. They can sense each other, you know. Better hope that Joff doesn't run off with them, after eating you, of course."

Sandor took a deep breath as he started to walk away, looking about one hundred pounds lighter.

"I have to say, this felt really good. Sad to lose the job, sort of. But I have a feeling you won't be able to afford to pay me anyway. I'll get a scout as soon as I can. Stay on the road."

 

Cersei stared after Sandor seething as her son was giggling his head off.

"I really liked that crossbow too. Dammit. Have to get a new one. Mother, you drove him off. Your only protector is walking off with my crossbow and all his guns. Nice work. Impressive, you are learning to burn your bridges faster and faster these days. Are you sure you weren't infected once? Or maybe all this sadism is just inherited?"

Glaring at her son now, Cersei lifted her chin and stormed back to the smoking wreckage. Joff continued to laugh and he narrowed his eyes, looking around. How did Sandor already disappear so fast? He is too large to move that quickly down a road.

Maybe the man chose to hide in the woods, to really keep an eye on them? Joff snorted. No, that wasn't it. Sandor had given up a life of a criminal, but that didn't change his attitude any. The man never was a friendly man to anyone.

His loyalty was to the paycheck, to living a life he chose for himself. It was the freedom, not the morals or ethics that made Sandor chose the civilized lands. Sandor was done with the job, he will leave as he said he would.

The man would send help but he wouldn't waste effort on secretly guarding them. But how did he leave so fast without Joff seeing him?

Thump. Thump.

Joff groaned at the mild return of his headache then grinned at his returning mother. What a sight it was. Cersei has stripped down to her tank top and put on her thickest jeans, along with sneakers.

"Holy shit, Mother! Look at you! You are really going the whole Mama Bear route, aren't you?"

Cersei's short blonde hair was in twisted spikes thanks to the heat and it only made her look fiercer. She had a semi automatic rifle over her shoulder. A thick belt held two large daggers. Tossing a backpack to Joff, nearly hitting him with it, she snarled.

"Get up. Take that and let's go. Do you think I always had your father or some big burly furry fucking man to care for me? When the plague forced everyone to run like rats...do you really think that my father and brother had time to coddle me? Hell, I was left to care for that deformed monster! I had to risk my own life, for someone I despised because he was family! Do you know why I married your father? Because I had to run away from my family. I used the plague and the destruction of our world to escape my own cage! I fought, I hid and I scavenged and got hurt like every other person! I earned the respect of the damned Stark and Baratheon men right along with Cat Stark! Right next to Selyse and Lysa! They weren't the crazy weak women you hear about, that everyone jokes about now. Not back then. No, and Cat was about as proper as an alley cat in heat. But we survived by fighting and protecting what became ours! So don't think I need that giant to care for us. I can do that. Now let's go. Move."

Joff sighed and stood up slowly, slinging the backpack over his shoulders.

"Why don't we just head back home? I mean, it can't be more than a few hours to a Southern scout, right? Let's face facts, mother. There is no father to meet with the Starks, to spew his paranoia. And once the Starks see how much further my infection has gone...there is no way they will let you marry me to the girl. Even in name only. So why bother going there at all? And if they see me, won't they kill me? Or are you going to do the right thing, the motherly thing and find me a tribe? Like I have been asking."

"SHUT UP! I hate it when you get like this. You just want to burrow under my skin. This really isn't the time or place for that. We are heading North, we are closer to them. And Ned will help me, he knows the dangers of letting my father run the South. He remembers what happened before. With the Targaryens and how my father was after that. How Olenna, my father, Walder, Euron...Roose...all the mad dogs were loosed then. They weren't brutal and savage looking like the Mountain but truly, they were worse. At least with the criminals, they take what they want and leave. And the men might wish you dead all they'd like. But they would have to get through me, then Cat, to do it."

Joff snorted as he followed his mother.

"Why would she help or defend you for anything? I thought you two hated each other, judging by every time you've ever spoken of the woman. I mean, every Fair the two of you would speak and we could all see the daggers fly."

"That is personal. That is different. Women aren't like men in that respect. We can despise each other and yet die for each other. Cat will honor my wishes, as I have hers. We promised each other that once. If one of us was killed or finally caught the plague that the other would care for the children. That no matter what, we would always make sure the children were safe, one way or another."

Tilting his head, eyes glittering like hard stones, he hissed.

"I do not want to go North to have two women coddle me and keep me safe! You can't keep me safe from myself or anyone else and you know that! Otherwise, you would have fought harder for my crossbow back! You would have offered me one of your daggers. Look, we are surrounded by wild forest! Let me go! Let me run off and find a tribe. You heard what Sandor said, they will sense me, know me. Let me go if you really care about me. What chances do I have? Gonna stick me in a cage? Was that really the plan? Was there even a wedding or was this just a trap?"

Cersei bared her teeth, every inch of her feeling the last thing that was hers slipping away.

"YOU WANT THE FUCKING REAL STORY, JOFF? FINE, YEAH. YES. You and Sansa were really going to get married. And then shipped off to a very good doctor. Joff, when you got sick....after we left, Sansa got sick too. Ned and Cat hid it as well as they could, it was passed off as a flu. The doctor, his name is Qyburn, he had been given sanctuary with the Boltons. He was sent to Sansa and whatever it was, Joff, he halted it. Stopped it just before she became..."

"Like me?"

"Yes, like you. Cat and Roose both had written to me about it. Qyburn made the offer for you to come see him. I want you and Sansa to marry because...you two might be the beginning of something. Qyburn has some ideas and plans...Joff...he might be able to help you control it better. And you and Sansa, you will make your own tribe. Find a wonderful life of your own. Your father and I cleared lands for you the two of you...Ned has already started sending builders to make your home."

Joff stared at his mother and moved closer.

"Are you telling me the truth? About Sansa? She caught it and isn't fully like me? How did he do it? What is she like now? If not like me...like you?"

"No...I mean, she is kind and gentle...but her mind never passed the age she was. She will always have the lovely innocent mindset of a teenage girl perhaps. But what is wrong with that? You cannot have stress, she won't become stressful. We can still make sure you two stay separated until you are both ready. But to see Qyburn, that is the most important thing."

"What if he can't fix me? What if it's too late?"

"We have to hope, to pray for this to help you, Joff."

"And if it doesn't...will you let me go to a tribe then?"

Cersei gave a sharp nod and moved forward faster but Joff kept up.

Joff sensed eyes watching them but some instinct, something told him to not tell his mother. When the first arrow came, Joff started to giggle again.

    


	7. Control It

Ramsay's eyes widened in the gloom of the Dreadfort and the damp chill seemed to caress him. His boot heels clicked hard against the stone as he headed up the winding staircase. He allowed his hand to run against the stone walls and imagine it's history. 

When the lands were won, his father found this old museum piece and declared it his own. No one else wanted the haunted looking old stone fortress. It was impressive and lovely in it's own way, but not all saw it that way. Then or now.

The Boltons wanted it, Ramsay loved and hated it as much as he loved and hated his father. At least when Domeric was around, Ramsay wasn't complicated or conflicted about him. He just simply hated him. Even in death, Ramsay hates him.

His step brother was always the smart, spoiled one. Ramsay was the interloper. When his mother died of the first wave of the deadly virus, Ramsay was shipped to a family he had never known about. He was meeting his father for the first time, while he was meeting his father's family.

Bethany, his step mother despised Ramsay on sight. Domeric and Ramsay tried to get along, they both pretended for their father's sake. When his step mother became ill, Ramsay was happy over it. He couldn't mimic grief but at least he hid his happiness.

Or so he thought. After the funeral, Domeric had confronted Ramsay over it and they fought. It was a bad fight with both boys ending up in the hospital. Ramsay had several broken ribs and a concussion. Domeric had to have his spleen removed. 

When Ramsay returned home his father beat him until he sobbed like a baby. Domeric never returned home. The plague hit the hospital like a wave. Domeric was dead within days. Ramsay has never been forgiven and he will never ask forgiveness.

He sighed, recalling that he was about to embark on yet another disturbing and irritating rituals just to please his father. Ramsay noticed a blood smear on the stones and moved his hand away. He had cut it along the way somewhere.

Running his tongue slowly along the cut, he could taste stone and copper. It tasted good and Ramsay grinned momentarily. It bolstered him to finish the climb and enter his father's chamber.

 

The sound of sandpaper along metal, a light off key sound filled the room.  Roose lay along the length of a steel tub, his head propped with a pillow at the rim. He was naked, the tub was dry, Roose was the only thing in it, besides the leeches.

Roose's hands slid along the edges of the tub ceaselessly. Large black leeches, glistening and squirming were carefully placed upon his body. A thin servant, pale and silent was tending the leeches. They were picked by him freshly every morning in the swamp.

Small delicate boned hands quickly plucked off full leeches and replaced them with fresher, hungrier ones. Even the entrance of Ramsay did not disturb the man's concentration. 

"Pablo, please answer a question for me."

Roose's voice was a mere whisper but it rebounded upon the walls, causing the thin man to quake a little and Ramsay to almost flinch.

"Yes, Sir."

"Pablo, what do I value the most, why do I go through such a sacrifice?"

"Control, Sir. To always keep control."

"Thank you. Now Ramsay, I do hope that you arranged for your own leeching this day? And for those going out with you this evening?"

"Yes, Father. After I see you, I am going to the leech farm. We are all just getting it done there, its easier. We don't have your...dramatic flair or enjoyment in it. But I swear we shall all be freshly bled before going out."

Roose nodded. He stretched a little and Ramsay looked away, impatient.

"Ramsay, I understand you are a young man that needs excitement. I do understand that, I was young once myself. I have told you the stories of the wars. What I was like back then. We became beasts, son. Monsters and it might not have been our fault, but it happened. A scratch if you remember, Ramsay. It was a small scratch...but I didn't die. I became a beast...but I controlled it. Qyburn controlled it and I was his first and I chose you, didn't I? I could have killed you, I could have cast you away and let you live elsewhere, not infected. But I bit you and look at us, Ramsay. Look at your friends, look at the ones who serve us. We aren't cannibals, are we? No, we are respected, we are controlled. We have discovered something amazing. We are miracles, the new civilization. And I can't have you throwing all of it away over a loss of control. Not even for one single night, not out of our perimeter. Go to your leeching and then your bar. But keep control. No hunting."

Ramsay nodded and bit back a sigh. Then he took a step back in horror as his father started to rise out of the tub. With a single step, Roose was standing on the stones. Leeches clung but a few fell to the stones with a juicy patter.

Ramsay watched as Roose stepped upon one, exploding it as he came forward. His stomach had two leeches trying to not fall and Ramsay's eyes were drawn to it. He could see his father's steel grey pubic hair and his eyes snapped up again.

"I want to rip out my eyes and throw them away."

"Very funny, Ramsay. Everything is a joke, right? I get it. You aren't from the same life that I was. I understand that, son. I do. And I love you, this is all for you, you know that. Don't you, Ramsay? I care for your future, for all of our futures."

Roose was nearly touching Ramsay's nose and his cold, rough hands now caressed Ramsay's broad shoulders.

"I do not ask much, do I? All I ask is that you do your part. Leeching. Follow Qyburn's instructions. Obey me and support me. And what do I offer you in return? Everything. I want to give you the whole of the North if not more. I want you to lead a new order of civilization forward and do your part for those who come after us. Do not antagonize, do not mindlessly butcher. I heard about that hitchhiker last month, Ramsay. I cleaned up your mess, but I have no doubt it was your mess. You and your boys have a pattern I clearly recognize. What if someone else besides our loyal tribe saw it? What if it got back to Ned or Cat Stark? They fully believe that Qyburn halted our infections. That is why we have them, this is how we stay protected by the Starks. They let Qyburn treat Sansa because of us. If they see one of us, any of us as actively infected, we have a war on our hands that we are not yet ready to win."

Ramsay nodded and refused to look away from his father's somber merciless eyes.

"I'm sorry, Father. I shouldn't make jokes of such a serious thing. I'm going to be leeched with the boys and I promise no fights and no hunting tonight.  I still don't understand why you don't let us just go claim Sansa as one of ours. How can you be so calm about hearing that they want to marry her off to Joff? He isn't like us...I heard he is a savage already. I envy him to get away with so much. Now he gets Sansa too? While she is so much closer to our state than his."

Roose gave a slight smirk and walked back to his tub, his servant scurrying to recover the fallen leeches and attach new ones.

"It is offensive, yes. But I don't think the Starks believed how far Joff has gone, they aren't the type to believe rumors or gossip. Once they see him, once Qyburn has him, it won't be a problem. Sansa has been seeing some of the girls, our girls...she always tries to edge closer to us...she feels it as we do. Soon enough the Starks will let us have her. I am sure of it. Tell Myranda to pay another visit to Sansa...but make sure that whore of yours is leeched first! Hear me, Ramsay? I won't have the girl tortured, just seduced towards us. I need her to lose control just enough to convince the Starks to let Sansa stay here under Qyburn's care."

As if summoned by his own name, a small greying man entered the room. Ramsay always thought the man looked like a demented mad scientist from an old movie. Being treated by Qyburn does feel like being in a horror movie.

But Ramsay understands and endures it like all do. Qyurn might truly be the savior of the new world, his father the leader that helped save the world. Bring a new group of people to life, to a new life. Ramsay does not like Qyburn, but he respects and fears him. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Bolton. I have an emergency. I would never wish to intrude on your leeching time nor your time with your son. But..the news on the radio from the North and South is distressing. It seems that the Baratheons never showed at the North, nor have returned home. Ned Stark took his eldest son and his friend Jory to try and find the missing family. And the South is not sending out anyone to look at all. Tywin and Olenna have returned at a most opportune time, I would say. I need that boy, Sir. You know how important this is for us all. Is there anyone you can send to find the boy? Even if he is dead, his body would at least maybe answer some questions for me. I have spoken with Cat and she is distressed. Guests are there, Tyrion and some ferals. I shudder at the fact that a Stark has allowed ferals on our land. Cat said that Sansa is overexcited, upset that she will not marry that boy after all. It is all a mess, I am most put out at seeing hard work come apart."

Roose sat up straight and the servant rushed forth with a thick crimson robe to wrap the pale strong frame. It hung from him like a blood clot, dripping extra fabric on the stones, pooling around him.

"Ramsay, tell the Goat I want Joff found dead or alive, please. They are currently moving deep North, they can easily find any tribes that took him. I can't imagine his mother surviving a group of cannibals, but they would simply take Joff in. The Goat is very good at slaughtering cannibal tribes and kidnapping in general. I am sure we shall have the boy soon for you, Qyburn. I am going to pay a visit to Cat, I believe. She could use some support. The only ones she has to trust are Theon and Jon, that isn't saying much. Two weak unloved lost boys...surely I can find a better use for them."

Roose watched mildly as Ramsay's eyes flashed.

"Go to your leeching. Let my orders stand and I will tell you tomorrow your new roles to play. Let's not waste this one opportunity to rash actions or any type of emotions. I know what you want, I understand. And what did I tell you?"

"You said I may keep a pet once I can show control and prove to you that I am a responsible, capable leader in training."

Roose patted Ramsay's cheek in dismissal as he walked out of the room.

"That is correct. So I suggest that you start proving yourself to me."

He seethed as he watched his father try and calm, reassure the frantic doctor.

Ramsay stormed down the stairs and burst into the leeching farm. Damon, Skinner, Alyn and Ben were already there.

Ramsay joined the others in tormenting the leech man as he attached the disgusting squirming things to their bodies. Afterwards they all took the orange colored pills that Qyburn insisted all took. Grimacing at the bitter taste, Ramsay took his pills.

In spite of it all, the rituals worked. They were still happy to get out, still planning on drinking and partying but they were calmer. No urges to attack or kill. At least for now and the young men were allowed to leave for the local pub. 


	8. Natural Forces

Gregor was large, he was a true giant, he was his own force of nature. His head was a shiny bald dome that nearly brushed the ceiling as he moved forward. Each step slightly rattled the room.

Gregor's bulk of muscle and pure testosterone filled the space and as he stood before the council table, he seemed immense. As if he could just lean down and devour the elderly and the middle aged before they could run.

Petyr and Varys gave blank, pleasant faces but their bodies were tense, ready to bolt or defend themselves. Kevan, Tywin and Olenna gave steely eyes, but they seemed like evil vultures looking at a mountain that might provide them fresh carnage.

When Tywin indicated the chair in front of the table, Gregor grinned and sat down. The chair seemed like it might shatter but it miraculously held. Even sitting down, Gregor towered, at height level with the standing Jaime.

Jaime and Brienne both stood next to the sitting giant, hands behind their backs. Gregor's men moved up behind him and stood in a semi circle.

Clearing his throat, Jaime remembered his manners and duty.

"Father, Uncle Kevan and Olenna, this is Gregor Clegane of the Mountain tribe. These are his closest...associates. This is Polliver."

Jaime indicated a slouched, sour looking man with a shaved head. Then he waved his hand towards another man who was short, bulky and had a rather terrifying grin that contained too many large teeth.

"That man..is named Tickler. I am not interested to find out why. And that man to Gregor's right, his name is Raff..The Sweetling. Again, no need to discuss why."

Raff smiled at the group and Olenna made a tittering sound, drinking her tea while the men stared at her.

"Oh, look at him! The man looks like an angel dropped to earth and such a sincere charming smile. It's Gregor's PR, right? And the one next to him, your name is Dusten, correct? Oh, where did you ever find these two nice looking young men to work for you, Gregor? I must say, I would love to have them work for me. If only I was a little younger. My, oh my, you really did bring the big guns with you, didn't you,dear? Two repulsive enforcers, two lovely men to talk and be pretty..."

Raff flipped his long blonde hair back from his face and Dusten simply blushed.

"Dusten looks like you dragged him from a model photo shoot. Perhaps him sitting on a tractor wearing only suspenders and a small bit of hay dangling carelessly from his mouth. Raff, I want to desperately believe that you were created from the heavens. Oh well, as wonderful a sight as you two men are...I must focus upon Gregor."

Olenna managed to make the two handsome men squirm slightly and felt able to move onward. She squinted then added a pair of glasses so that she may truly give a good look to the giant.

"I notice you have those interesting tattoos, young man. What do all those lines with crosses through them represent?"

The tattooed littered Gregor's arms, neck, chest and back. Wearing a t shirt and leather vest allowed most of the tattoos to show.

"These are all my kills. So far."

"Ah, impressive. What a unique way to do your recording and bookkeeping. Well then, let us dispense with all the nice chit chat and get right to the point. Tywin, do you wish to begin or shall I?"

Tywin cleared his throat and sat even straighter, nodding slightly at Olenna.

"Now that you have finished with your fun, Olenna...thank you, I can take it from here."

Olenna simply gave Tywin an innocent look and waved graciously for him to proceed. All turned to look directly at Gregor who stared back impassively, waiting.

"It seems the only real way to stop criminals is to employ a deadlier criminal to do it. There are messes here that must be dealt with before my daughter returns to meddle. Her soft heart hasn't allowed her to take care of the South correctly and that drunken husband of hers was no use. This council wishes to hire you and your tribe to assist us in removing certain dangers."

Tywin tossed a small yellow wax square over to Gregor. It had a small red dragon within a red circle. Gregor picked it up and smirked up at Polliver.

"It's your favorite competitors, I think. Seems the dragon twins have been very busy."

"Robert was supposed to have those two killed for years now. Viserys and Dany are poisoning the South slowly every day and it must end. They must end. We have lost several younger people to this drug of theirs and more that take it cannot function. They cannot be part of our society. Now Kevan is able to create a rehabilitation center for those afflicted but we must get rid of the cause. Also, the Greyjoys are raiding closer and closer to us. They are running a human trafficking trade with the West. It is interfering with our own trades. The Greyjoys need to be dispersed with. We want to hire you, Gregor. You and your men to handle these situations for us."

Gregor leaned closer and let his arms rest on the table, causing it to creak alarmingly.

"And if we get rid of the Targaryen drug, get rid of the Greyjoy trafficking...what is to stop us from replacing it with our drugs and our own slave services?"

Tywin didn't even blink.

"If your drug can allow these people to function enough for usefulness and you keep your other business discreet, what do I care? Hell, Petyr can give you a secondary brothel of his to house them in. I am offering you the chance to reestablish trade and am lifting your banishment from the civilized South. Get rid of those twins, get rid of the pirates. You and your men can then see to policing our Southern lands. Keeping all undesirables out. Enforcing laws and punishing those that do not obey them. Your own personal trades will have rules and guidelines simply to hide it from public viewing. The frivolous building that belonged to my daughter and her family shall be yours to share with your tribe. That is fair, isn't it?"

Gregor stood up.

"I will back with your answer in an hour."

 

 

Twenty minutes later a sweaty and flushed Brienne flew into her apartment, scaring the hell out of Margeary.

"BRI! Don't burst in like that! Not with the Mountain tribe in the city! You just scared me half to death!"

What scared her worse was watching her girlfriend rush to grab her always packed emergency bag from the closet. Bri also grabbed the one she always had packed for Margeary too.

"Come on. We need to leave right now. It took convincing to make Jaime wait for me to grab you. He said he would try to signal Loras if he could. We have to get out of the South before the hour is up and Gregor takes over."

Margeary shook her head and she grabbed Bri's arms.

"I can't leave. My grandmother would never really let me or Loras get hurt by anyone, you know that. Bri, someone has to stay and try to keep things floating. Until a Baratheon returns, there aren't a lot of younger voices being heard. Loras and I can change that. Jaime could for once stand against his father with us! Help us all be a single strong unit against my grandmother and the Lannisters. It's politics, Bri, not violence that will win. Running away fixes nothing."

"You don't understand, love. If I stay, there will be nothing but violence for me. Gregor has tried for years to sleep with me, to get me to join his tribe. I have refused and insulted him at every turn. I already tried gang rape in the North and discovered I don't care for it. I highly doubt it will be any better when it's Gregor and his men doing it. What happens when Tywin gives them full control over all of us? I am a soldier for the South but I will not obey that man. I can't. I have no choice but to leave. Shit, please...come with me?"

"I will miss you and I love you. But I can't leave, not now. You have to though, I see that. Go to the Riverlands or North, hell, West if you want, but send me a message. That way when we have gotten the elders in line, shoved Gregor back out, I can send for you to come home to me."

Bri hugged her hard and kissed the top of her head.

"Jaime and I are going to find Cersei. Then we shall rally the Starks, the Boltons and Freys to come back full force. Keep yourself safe, okay? I love you. You should go stay with Loras while I am gone. Maybe the two of you should stay with your grandmother, she took an entire plantation museum after all. It's safest to stay close to her for now."  

With a dry chuckle, Margeary shoved Bri away and pretended not to have tears in her eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure that wouldn't be awkward. Spending all day trying to face grandmother down publicly then all have a cozy dinner and chat before bedtime. If you are that worried I will go stay with Loras. Please stay safe, Bri. Don't be a hero for anyone, hear me? And don't let Jaime talk you into any schemes."

Brienne and Jaime left the first post of the civilized North on their personal motorcycles just as Gregor agreed to the Council's offer.

"I can't believe I am going back North for you."

Jaime grinned at her fierce yell and he gunned his motorcycle past her.

"Trust me! Don't I always keep us safe in the end?"

Brienne groaned. Yeah, in the end. It was the beginning and middle of shit that Brienne was worried about. 


	9. Cougar Vs. Cannibals

The windowpanes rattled and the sound was slowly driving Robb crazy. Ned and Jory spoke of things that Robb had no interest or real understanding of. He pressed his forehead against the dirty glass and wished they had taken the horses instead.

He got that they might need to transport the lost family but why couldn't they have let him take his own horse?

Sighing, Robb stretched again.

"You just radioed the scouts closest to the border and they said there is no sign of them. The ones who rode ahead to look radioed back that only Robert was in the wreckage. Doesn't it seem obvious that either Joff went all infected on Cersei or that they were attacked and cannibalized by now?"

"Robb, please remember that Robert was my friend. Once he was like a brother to me. Show a little respect for my feelings, son."

Bowing his head slightly, Robb tried to hide his heated face. He hated how his father always managed to guilt and shame him, then in the next breath, praise him.

"I am so proud of you, Robb. You are a wonderful smart young man, but you need to learn more politics and a little more empathy."

"Yes Father. I am sorry."

"Thank you, Robb. We have to hope that Cersei can keep herself and the boy safe on the road. Plus they have that guard with them. The large one, the brother of Gregor."

Jory grimaced.

"Sandor. The one with no ear and a sauteed face."

"Yes, him. He was trained by Gregor himself, I highly doubt he wouldn't protect them."

Robb rolled his eyes.

"Dad, I think you need to think more realistically about this. A swarm of Wildlings or cannibals could easily overcome one large man. They use arrows and know how to hide, how to surprise. What would a civilized Southerner know about that?"

Ned and Jory both laughed at Robb's affronted face.

"What would you even know of that, Robb? We took you on only one raid and it was just a group of thieving ferals. No, Sandor was trained by Gregor, they lived in the wilds and the swamps to hide from us. He would know how to fight and so would Cersei."

"He is right on one thing, Ned. A swarm of them would be able to take them down and Joff most likely will help. It sounds as if Joff is mostly gone at this point anyway. Better that the cannibals take him in then us having to put him out of his misery in front of his mother."

Ned's face became grim and tight.

"If Joff is alive and if at all possible, we shall bring him to Qyburn. Cat and Roose are adamant and on the off chance any research done on him can help my daughter..."

Robb winced a little and tried to change the subject fast. Even though no one has ever seen a single sign of savagery in Sansa, it remains a constant fear. He hates hearing her cry when their mother cuts her nails to the quick.

They even had a dentist cap her teeth as if that would stop the virus if she accidentally bit or scratched someone. On bad days, when Sansa's gets very upset and has temper tantrums, her parents still tie her to the bed, just in case.

It was a sore subject for all of them and rarely ever discussed. Robb wasn't ready for his father to decide to open up about his infected sister.

"How would Cersei survive if Sandor doesn't protect her? I see her every year at the Fair, Dad. Her hair might be real short but that is the only kick ass thing about her. I mean, how does she even find such fancy clothing? And all that make up, the jewelry and she wore high heels, Jory."

Jory burst out laughing and Ned's granite face seemed to crack open and his mirth exploded out, filling the truck. Robb was relieved his father was happy again but irritated that it would be at his expense.

"Oh Robb...you have no idea about what that woman can do. During the war, the only woman that could match her was your mother. Cersei was hell on wheels back then. She was always trying to look her best, even covered in blood and dirt, she could somehow look like she would either fuck you or kill you."

Ned gave Jory a censuring look and then an unwilling smirk graced his lips.

"Cersei gave that look to every strong man. Cat only gave that look to me."

Jory snorted and Robb rolled his eyes.

"I don't need to hear this. Really. I don't. Heard all about the war. All set. Thanks. Passed history already. All good."

"No Robb. You heard the facts of it all. Not the personal stories. There is a difference."

"Every single time you drink, or any Northerner older than thirty drinks, it is all we hear about. The personal stories of the war. All good."

"My point is, the women were just as capable as us, if not more in some ways. Don't underestimate them. Your mother, Cersei, if they feel the need to fight, you'd better back the hell out of their way. If Cersei is out there, she wouldn't go down easily."

Robb stared back out the window, scanning for movement in the trees. He couldn't imagine that snobbish, graceful icy polite socialite physically fighting. Maybe she just talks them down until her enemies wither away in embarrassment for bothering her?

 

A half hour later, Robb stood with his mouth open staring at the carnage around him. At least seven cannibals were laying about. Five had been shot, more like pulverized by a hail of bullets. Another had his head bashed in by a large rock still sunk into his face.

The last one had been disemboweled. He was still squirming a bit when Jory came over and shot him in the head. Ned was the only one that dared to approach the blood covered, shuddering woman in the center of the corpses.

"Cersei? It's Ned, I'm here to help you. Where is Joff? Are you hurt? Are you scratched or bitten?"

A blonde sweaty head liberally splattered with blood snapped upwards. Cersei shakily stood up and glared at Ned.

"I am not infected. Search me yourself if you want to. But then you help me, Ned. They took my son! That...thing...his name was Styr! A cannibal took my son, my baby! Ned, we have to hunt them down and get Joff back. Please!"

Ned tried to calm Cersei and maneuver her towards the truck.

"Listen, if they were able to capture Sandor and take Joff, then they can easily evade us or take us out. We need to head home, alert Roose and have him send his entire squadron if need be. You can lead them if you wish, but right now we have to leave."

Cersei understood the logic but it broke her heart to leave.

"Why? Why my boy! My sweet baby."

Robb eagerly volunteered to go sit in the back and allow Cersei his spot in the truck. He scanned for movement and held his rifle at the ready. He could hear Cersei in the cab talking with the men.

"They came and I fought as hard as I could to protect my boy. But they kept sending more of them and finally one hit me with a rock in the head. I got him back for it but then I blacked out. When I came around, this large cannibal stood over me, grinning. He said his name and that Joff belonged with his own kind. And Joff...he said something about biting me, letting me go with them. Styr told him they already had a very large scarred man for a feast. That I should leave and forget Joff. My father...he must have set this up, Ned! You know that! Have you heard from the South?"

Ned nodded heavily.

"Yeah. Your father, Olenna and Kevan have seized control in your absence. Worse, they invited the Mountain access. We can head home, call all the leaders in, call all our supports in. We can go back South with a force that will scare the elders back home and make the Mountain slink back to his swamps. I know it isn't much of a comfort to you, but Tyrion has come to visit our home. He is staying in a guest house with his friends. He was concerned to hear of your disappearance."

Cersei gave a dry laugh.

"Oh, I am sure he was worried sick over it. Don't bother to lie for him, Ned. He probably did a jig, hoping it was the end of us."

Ned sighed again but gave up. 

"They took everything this time, Ned. It's not fair. I didn't lose everything to a virus just to lose it all again to those wrinkled fucks! They took my home, my husband and my son from me. They need to pay for that."

Jory flinched at the hissing hatred in the woman's voice. Ned shared a look of concern with his best friend over Cersei's head.

Here they were reminiscing about their glory days, forgetting they were also bloody, anguished days, now they might be seeing another war. Ned glanced back at Robb and thought of his other children too. Were they able to handle a war?


	10. A Necessary Evil

"Why does he want to visit now though? Huh? Think of on that, Jon. What if our Leech Lord is coming to leech off Cat? We have plenty of shit he doesn't have. And that fat little girl he married compared to someone like Cat? I think we should make sure one of us is always with her until Ned gets back."

Jon sighed and turned away from Theon's overly dramatic speech.

"Cat is in charge, not us. We just protect and obey orders until my Father returns. We cannot follow her and Roose around unless Cat orders it. Besides, how thrilled would she be with me shadowing her? Also, consider that if Roose did try something, my evil stepmother would turn into a dragon and eat him."

Jon smiled mildly as Theon burst out laughing.

"Shit, that's true. She is like out of one of those old fairy tales. Oh, they showed us on movie night, once. Sleeping Beauty or something like that...I always did think of Cat and Cersei when I saw the evil witches in those stories."

 

_Secretly, Jon always thought of Cat as the villain that wanted the younger, innocent child harmed. On a logical level he knew that Cat has never given him any harsher a punishment than any other child in the house. She has never treated him with any less care or justice._

_Cat just treated him as a permanent house guest she wished would go. What hurt was how hard Jon tried as a child to make her feel something for him. He tried being perfect, he tried making her gifts, asking to spend time with her._

_He was coldly rebuffed at first, then as he continued to try, Cat got harsher and blunter about it. Finally one day during a Mothers Day picnic for Cat, it all came to a final terrible head._

_Each child, even Theon and Jon made something for Cat and she opened each item with great ceremony. Cat would smile regardless of how strange the present was. She thanked each child heartily until she reached Theon and Jon's gifts._

_Cat opened Theon's first and gave a polite nod and smile._

_"Thank you, Theon. This is a very nice boat. I shall put it on my knick knack shelf."_

_Then Cat picked up Jon's present and grimly opened it. She blinked and gasped at the lovely present. Jon had found a thick gold chain with a blank gold disk. He had carefully scratched Best Mother into it._

_"Jon...this is lovely but I can't accept it. Not with...the words on it. I am not your mother, you know that. Thank you for your efforts, it really is a nice necklace."_

_He had felt a hard punch inside his guts and Jon had clumsily stood up, running away. Theon found him that night on the roof and lay with him, pretending not to see Jon cry._

_"She is a cold bitch. Stop trying and save yourself the pain, Jon. The rest of us really like your moody ass."_

_So Jon did. He remained polite and respectful to Cat but he stopped attempting to love her or make her love him. Instead he cast her as the evil stepmother and found it fit quite nicely to ease the pain._

 

"Truth be told, it's probably best we stay away from old Leechy anyway. He might decide Cat is too tense and we should stay with him again. I don't think I can take another Dreadfort visit, thank you very fucking much."

Jon shuddered along with Theon and he shook his head.

"We are adults now. He can't make us go anywhere. And I will only take orders from Cat, same for you. I don't plan to ever go back to that dungeon. Just be happy that it's only Roose and not Ramsay with his goons. And by the way, you really need to watch your jokes while Roose is here. Don't let him hear you call him a Leech Lord. Joke won't be so funny when Roose is disemboweling you."

Theon stiffened a little at the mention of Ramsay and became very focused on the cleaning of the guns. Jon said nothing, he was rubbing his arms to get rid of the gooseflesh. He is sure that the two of them would rather face an entire group of cannibals than the Boltons.

 

_Whenever something came up at the Starks home, the two boys would be sent to stay at the Dreadfort. That included Rickon's birth, Joff's visit and Sansa's virus. Each time it happened, Theon and Jon would go, not daring to speak against the Boltons._

_In spite of the trauma both faced there, they knew enough to understand the Starks needed the Boltons on their side of things. And if Jon or Theon told the truth of what the visits entailed, it would have put Ned and Cat in a terrible position._

_They would lose the Boltons support and strength if they sought justice for Jon and Theon. Or they would have to silence or banish the boys in order to not have to accuse the Boltons._

_Both boys were afraid to know if the Starks would defend them or cast them out. So they never said a word to Ned or Cat. They told some of it to Robb with a dire warning to silence._

_Robb hated that the Boltons had so much power and were so corrupt but he understood the need for silence and compliance. He knew he would take over for his parents someday._

_If Ramsay thought he would take over for his father and continue his savagery, he would find out that Robb was nothing like his parents. He won't tolerate the unfairness and brutality of the damned Boltons when he is in charge._

_Jon and Theon would listen to Robb rant this every time the boys ran into the Boltons or their people. But Robb wasn't more than the leaders son and his ranting couldn't really change a damned thing._

_Now the boys were young men and couldn't be intimidated or ordered to do shit by the Boltons. Theon and Jon kept their distance but did run into Ramsay and his buddies._

_They were all of a similar age and in such a small community, each age group only had a few places they could go for social activity. There was a small patch of land between Stark and Bolton land._

_Known simply as the Strip.  It was considered neutral, even Southerners, any weary traveler might come in safely._

_Two pubs, a restaurant, a boarding house, a whorehouse and a supply store. A gas station and a junkyard complete the strip. During the night, the pubs and whorehouse light up as much as they can.  
_

_Theon likes to drink too much, brag too much then try and fuck his way through the whorehouse. Jon likes to drink, to dance once he is drunk enough to not be embarrassed of it. He likes to sit and listen to others tell him their tales._

_It doesn't always become a problem with Ramsay. But on occasion either Theon would get too drunk and brash or one of Ramsay's goons will bother a girl and Jon will come to her defense._

_Then a fist fight might ensue, but Ramsay's boys tend to both fight dirty and use weapons. The fight is always broken up before it gets too bloody. If Robb accompanies them to the bar, the fight never happens._

_Ramsay or his boys will only use their words as weapons, leaving Robb so angry, he would be shaking. The Boltons are a necessary evil and both boys are half sure they are the expendable ones instead._

_So they remain silent, simmering, afraid and striking out at those who bully them the only way they can. Small drunken spats that never heal, only opening wounds that always dully hurt._

 

"Leech Lord is here on his fine steed. Look at that, wearing his black cloak and darkest, thickest clothes as if he's a gun-slinging version of the Grim Reaper."

Jon heard the fear that thread through the derision in Theon's voice as they watched the man galloping through the gates of Winterfell. As one, they moved forward to greet the man with fake smiles.

"Welcome, Mr. Bolton. Cat asked us to bring you up to the house as soon as you got here. Someone will care for your horse."

 

Sansa blew her nose again and then took a deep breath. She rotated her neck and tried to wish her headache away. Mother gave her aspirin then told her to take nap. Waiting until Cat locked the bedroom door and walked away, Sansa climbed out her window and down the tree.

She wasn't running away, not really. It was just this was intolerable and Sansa couldn't sway her parents. She isn't dumb, she heard them and understood. The handsome young boy she has looked forward to seeing every fair since childhood was infected. Like her, but not like her.

Hers was controlled, it was halted before Sansa became violent. Joff wasn't that lucky but Sansa was sure Qyburn would fix that. As much as she despised the creepy old man, she was grateful for him. 

All her parents had to do was bring Joff to Qyburn then she can marry him. They will move far from their awful parents and make their own tribe. They will prove that having the virus doesn't have to mean cannibalism or madness or death.

It can be the start of truly eradicating the plague. Qyburn and Roose firmly believe this and so does Sansa. They told her of it over and over while she was sick. During every treatment that makes Sansa cry or complain.

But now her dreams were nothing but dust. Sansa will remain alone and untouched forever simply because of a stupid virus. Who else would risk dating or marrying a girl that was infected? Even with a doctor's assurance, it wouldn't be very appealing.

Sansa wants to go out partying like the other teens her age. But due to her infection, her parents do not allow it. Girls may come in, so can the few boys and Cat will give them the yard for a party. This worked until the kids turned over thirteen.

Now the girls don't want sleepovers at Sansa's colorful tents in the yard with stolen cookies. They want to sneak into the strip and dance, peek into the whorehouse, steal a drink or two. And she gets left behind.

She walked along the old train tracks just beyond her house, trying to create a focused thought.

"Saaansa? Sansa?"

Halting, Sansa peered out into the twilight, trying to make sense of the flitting shadow in the trees. The voice was a high, mockingbird trill.

"Myranda, is that you?"

"Clever girl! Did you forget your curfew? Or did your mother suddenly release the leash upon you? That cannot be it. I heard her moaning about you all day while I cleaned. I mopped the floors while she complained to Kyra about how you wouldn't stop crying and yelling. I dusted while Cat confided in Ros that she was worried. Thinking of having Qyburn pay you a visit. Poor Sansa, are you running away? None of us care to have Qyburn touching us but he is good at what he does. You know that, don't you, dear?"

Sansa gave a sound of impatience and kept walking, Myranda skipping nearby, following her.

"I know Qyburn is valuable and so is his work. I'm part of his work, I know that. I'm not running away. I just am upset and I need...to move, to do something. And my head is pounding so please talk quieter."

Myranda was suddenly in front of Sansa, her head tilting, her nostrils flaring as if she smelt something delicious.

"Does your head always hurt when you are upset, Sansa? And then you feel this explosion of energy that you cannot expel, it grows and swells, agony until it finally fades away?"

Taking a quick step back but somehow wanting to sniff Myranda back, Sansa nodded.

"What do you do when that happens? Has Qyburn advised you on it, sugar?"

"Yes, I take aspirin and I have a punching bag. I learned how to box a little with it. Or I ride the horses if my parents or Jory can take the time. Sometimes I swim until it goes away, I scream under the water where no one can hear me. Today my mother just locked me in my room without anything and told me to nap. As if that would help. So I am walking these tracks until I can think clearly again."

"I can give you something to make your head stop hurting. And then I can show you another way to work off that energy. Here, take this and I'm going to take you to your very first visit to the Strip."

Sansa stared at the small yellow pill in Myranda's hand.

"What is it?"

Shrugging, Myranda popped it into Sansa's mouth and kissed her, licked, flickering her tongue like a snake at the bee stung lips to make her shut her mouth. The pill dissolved fast upon Sansa's tongue.

The time it took Sansa to unwind herself from Myranda's clutches was all the pill needed. Sansa stood, swaying, her head went back and she stared at the cold stars so far above the trees.

Her head was no longer thumping. Now it was full of wondrous feelings and the stars glittered so bright, everything around her was somehow sharper, more defined yet softer all at once. A hand took hers and Myranda's sweet sharp voice cut through Sansa's trip.

"Now that you feel better, let's go see the Strip. You'll love it, I promise. Wait until you see what you have been missing. Wait until you see what you can have for yourself if you are willing."

With a slight smile and glassy eyes, Sansa nodded.

"Yes. Fuck my parents, it's time for me to be a regular girl, like any other. Take me to the Strip, please."

 

Jeyne climbed off the roof of the little cabin and slid easily through a window. Tyrion turned and nearly dropped his drink in surprise.

"I really wish you would use the door, dear. Cat would not thank me for ruining her carpets with spilled wine."

"Sorry, Tyrion. The crying, wailing girl? She climbed out her window too. She was walking, walking and then another girl came by. Gave her a pill and made her happy. Now the happy girl is gone. Left with the other girl after they kissed. I am bored, I am restless and that is bad. Bad things are going to happen here very soon. I can feel it. Hotpie feels it too. We need to leave. Come with us and leave, Tyrion. I like you and don't want bad things to happen to you."

Hotpie slid in from another window and Tyrion shook his head as Podrick pretended he wasn't laughing.

"Jeyne is right. Another guest just came and he is danger. I sense it. He is like the quiet before the boom of a storm, Tyrion. It's time to leave before we get caught in the storm. We all need to leave right now."

"Well, I sense nothing but tense folks for very good reasons. I don't know what happened with Sansa and this other girl, but it sounds like normal teen mischief. The girl is infected, true, but she is not dangerous. As for the guest, it is Roose Bolton. Cat told me earlier that she invited him. They are to speak of both Sansa and what to do about the South. This is the beginning of a war, yes, I think so. But it will be a battle of North and South to reestablish control. It will not affect you in the least. I promise we shall keep you far from the fighting. Besides, we cannot just run off into the night all willy nilly. Bronn has gone to the Strip and we can't leave without him. Don't worry so much, everything will be alright."

Jeyne and Hotpie just stared at him then went out the door.

"We shall keep watch then. Just at least pack all your stuff just in case we need to run fast. Please."

Tyrion rolled his eyes at Hotpie's request then muttered as they slammed the door on their way out.

"Sure, they can use the door to leave. But they can't seem to understand to come back in that way."

Podrick chuckled at Tyrion's drunken annoyance and then he went and silently packed everything. Just in case. He didn't feel what the ferals did, but he had eyes and saw the nerves strung on everyone around them. 

He has heard tales of the Boltons and Dreadfort but he assumed they were wild rumors. Podrick also saw that the infected redhead was no more than a sweet teenage girl, heartbroken over a crush. But the ferals have never been wrong on their instincts during his traveling with them.

So he packed the bags. Just in case.


	11. Tenderness

"My only true upset, boy, is that I have to die hearing your girlish fucking giggle in my good ear the whole time."

Harsh grunts of laughter burst forth from all but Joff, he just glared at Sandor. The large man was wrapped in chains, sitting against a tree that another chain wraps around. Yet Joff still took care to keep out of reach but close enough to keep his eye on.

Joff had been thrilled to leave with the cannibals, he was jubilant when he saw they had Sandor. His headache was gone and Joff started to believe he was truly free. No creepy doctor to experiment on him, no marriage to that simpering girl that was always going to be just that.

Styr was scary as hell but Joff felt a connection to him instantly and to the others. He found himself brushing up against them as they all moved fast through the trees, dragging Sandor along. None of them seemed to mind Joff's odd behavior.

He noticed that they all seemed to do that. Personal space was continually violated but no one was offended by it. Joff laughed at the thought of what his mother would think of that.

What would she think to see Joff grime covered, unwashed hair, rubbing against others with human flesh stuck between his sharpened teeth? It was hard not to giggle at the thought. 

"Did you kill your mother, you little creep?"

Joff narrowed his eyes at Sandor and sneered.

"No. I wanted to bring her, infect her. Styr said to leave her for her kind to find. At least I get to eat you. Maybe they will even let me prepare or kill you. I wish I knew how to cook but I am sure someone here is going to teach me."

Joff grinned as he shifted on his dirty lawn chair and watched the folks busily moving about. Deep within the forest was their main camp. It had truly been a camp at some point because it still had the cabins and a near to falling down play area.

A large amount of cooking equipment took up a good amount of the buildings. Most cannibals preferred to sleep outdoors on the ground or in a tent anyway. However, there were two cabins that were set up for sleeping and shelter from bad weather.

Of course the mess hall was always ready to recieve hungry tribe members.

"Wonder why Styr didn't want Cersei dead? You should wonder about that, Joff. Who sent Styr your way to take you in as one of their own? And by the way, if your mother still lives, she will never stop hunting for you. She loves you, look at all she sacrificed and buried for you? Cersei will want her son and her kingdom back. You know that. Wipe that look of freedom from your eyes, Joff. Your mother will send others for you, she will come herself if she can, leading a fucking army to destroy every cannibal until she finds you. How will they all feel about you then when these human eating shitheads figure out you are the cause of their existence being wiped out? Hmmm?"

Sandor looked smug and satisfied as Joff began to look troubled but then Styr came over with a large wooden club. Sharpened teeth formed into a shark smile as Styr looked at the deflated young man.

"Now your first lesson in cannibalism. There is no point in chatting with your food unless it has a very good story you can hear while waiting for a pot to boil, or for an oven to preheat. You should have left the gag in his mouth. Of course he is going to try and rile you up, he knows he is about to die a horrid death. You can hear better sounds from his mouth if you want to leave him without a gag."

Sandor spit and cursed at the cannibal, insulting him, his mother and all his relatives. Styr simply gave the giant a pitying, mocking smile and continued to speak.

"I thought you might enjoy prepping the meal a little, Joff. First thing we do with our meat is tenderize it. There are two ways to soften the skin before peeling. One is beating it tender, the other is to briefly boil it. Today, since it is your first special day, we shall do a bit of both. Take this and start tenderizing the meat while the water boils, would you?"

Joff was in his glory and nothing Sandor said could penetrate through the crimson haze that overcame him. He was panting, sweating, he was rock hard in his pants as he swung with all his might over and over. 

Sandor was past words, screaming as Joff shattered bones, but Styr made sure that Joff didn't destroy the meat. No, keeping the meat fresh and breathing as long as possible was a tradition of theirs.

Joff whined a little when Styr took the club away. Unable to help himself, Joff threw himself at the lump of pulverized purple, bloody meat and started to lick at the crimson juice. Chuckling, Styr pushed Joff back a little and started to unchain the large, broken man.

Sandor managed to take a few bites out of the cannibals and head butt a few as they dragged him to the large tub. It was full of boiling water, heated by the flames burning merrily underneath it. Curses, threats and finally Sandor pleaded.

He said please. Only once and then resumed to attempting to somehow avoid the tub. They threw him in with an immense splash that burned several of them, including Joff. They all cried out at the blistering water, but no one felt injured enough to miss Sandor's preparation.

Sandor gave a hideous scream, another high pitched one that eerily mimicked Joff's giggle. The group surrounding the tub gave a bit of a cheer as they prepared to pull him out. Styr thrust a meat hook through Sandor's left shoulder and another thrust one through his right shoulder.

Sandor was dragged out of the tub and hung from a tall strong tree. He wasn't looking like himself any longer. Joff watched in fascination as the man's skin seemed to be somehow sliding. Styr showed Joff how to carefully skin his meat.

Joff's only regret was that Sandor only briefly came to once. He just kept screaming, howling, jerking, twitching and Joff had laughed. Then he couldn't help himself. He lunged forward and burrowed his face into the raw meat he had exposed on Sandor's stomach.

He licked, bit, chewed and humped against the giant leg like a dog out of control. Sandor screeched louder, trying to flail about the best he could on two meat hooks and all his bones shattered. Joff felt a hand, a large rough one release his raging hard on from his jeans.

It didn't matter who it was, nothing mattered but the meat, the blood and the pain of his prey, the pleasure of that hand, it all mixed. Joff came to an orgasm with fresh, soft, bleeding flesh in mouth.

The man who helped Joff to a finish was called Rattleshirt. He introduced himself afterwards and assisted the new member with the rest of the skinning. Sandor died long before they had finished, thanks to Joff eating his stomach.

Styr said it was understood because Joff was new and eager. However, Joff must learn the rules and never break them. Or there are consequences. Joff did not ask what they were nor did he care.

He agreed and with great interest watched as three girls started to cut up Sandor.

That night Joff had the best dinner he has ever had in his life.


	12. Not Personal

Margeary loved Brienne, she truly did. But she also loved Shae and Yuri. And there was a cute butcher that was really fun and she felt a great amount of affection for him. Brienne did not know of the others and Margeary had no urge to divulge it.

She hoped to marry Brienne someday, maybe. Out of all those that Margeary loved and cared for, only Brienne ever truly stays in her head. It was Brienne's bed she slept in at night, every night. That was commitment, to share her world so closely with another.

It didn't bother her that folks threw "Beauty and the Beast" at them, Margeary agreed with them. Truthfully, she did not love Brienne for her face. No, it was her eyes, her voice, her mind and that large, muscled body. Then somehow it started to go deeper than even that.

She misses Brienne at night, consoling herself with her other lovers only partly helped. Most nights, she and Loras would just get high or drunk and she would babble about Brienne until Loras would shut her down.

Loras was in a slump. He was between dramatic boyfriends and was consoling himself any way he can. That meant alcohol, drugs and work, copious amounts of all three.

As the elders imposed new rules, as Gregor and his men ruthlessly bullied the towns, the citizens stood up. Led by Loras and Margeary, a good amount of rallying was done. Being the grandchildren of one of the council meant the Mountain didn't dare touch them.

So it wasn't much of a surprise to Margeary when an early morning knock came at Loras's apartment door. Stumbling out of the bedrooms, the siblings opened the door.

They stared at the handsome man, smiling with such charm, his eyes full of smoldering promise. Margeary yawned but Loras decided to just look his fill. Margeary rolled her eyes.

"What do you want, Raff?"

"Your grandmother has requested your presence in the council room. Right now. I'll wait and escort you."

"We don't need an escort. We know the way. And there isn't a soul here who would hurt us."

Raff smirked at Margeary, then gave a short laugh.

"No, dear. I'm not giving you protection. I'm making sure that you do as your told. Seems you two aren't very good at that. Hurry up and get dressed. Please."

He gave an angelic look to Loras and Margeary as he tried to wave them gently backwards, stepping inside and shutting the door. Raff leaned against it and watched as they stormed off to change.

 

The streets were still mostly empty as they walked towards the town hall. Loras and Margeary would never have admitted they were nervous. A secret council meeting they were asked to attend? While everyone else still was sleeping or just rising?

Olenna's face was impassive, it gave away nothing. Tywin and Kevan had the same exact no look, look. This was something the siblings were used to. The looks on Varys and Petyr's faces, that is what made their stomachs drop in fear.

It was a mix of sympathy and pity. A look that said they tried, at least attempted to halt whatever this was but not enough to risk themselves.

"A secret meeting just for us? How intriguing, grandmother."

Margeary kept her voice light and tinged with polite affection and humor. She and Loras stood tall before the table wearing the same impassive, polite faces.

"It is hardly a secret meeting when it is daylight outside and the doors are unlocked. We rise early and we would rather deal with any distasteful issues right away. Get it out and done with."

Olenna sipped her tea and Tywin addressed the two stiffly.

"Please sit down. Your impassioned speeches and petitions need to end. We impose new rules and new order for a reason. This land needs order and peaceful prosperity. It doesn't need rebellion, picketing and riots. As Olenna's grandchildren, I am frankly surprised that you didn't already understand this. You will support your grandmother if you wish to continue living here in the state you are accustomed to."

Loras's jaw actually dropped in outrage and Margeary couldn't speak for a moment. Then Loras shut his jaw so fast it clicked and he stood up fast, staring at Tywin.

"Excuse me, Sir. Margeary and I do not live off of our grandmother. Both of us contribute to this community, we both work, the same as anyone else for our place here."

"Perhaps you misunderstand. My point was, not that you were physically supported by your grandmother but her name has carried protection for you. It carried a certain favor. If you withdraw support from her beliefs, then she will withdraw her support from you. Which means you will be subject to any same danger as a common citizen."

Margeary looked over at Olenna.

"Grandmother? Will you really do that? To your own grandchildren? Regardless of our political differences, we still love and respect you. But if you do this...how will we forgive that? How will we believe you ever loved us?"

Loras shook his head as Olenna gave a cool glance back at the siblings before sipping at her tea.

"We never caused riots. That was your own fucking gorillas you have unleashed on us all! Do you have any idea what they are doing out there? They are creating the riots, the reason that a damned drug war is suddenly happening. They are bullying, raping, stealing and killing. You call that protection and keeping the peace? How can we ever support this? How about not being allowed in or out the gates without a permit? Or the damned curfew as if we are all little children? We can't support you. We won't."

Margeary had rose when Loras did and she pressed her arm against his to show support.

"My dearest grandchildren. I wish you would reconsider. You could do so much good here. You could find yourself rising to a seat upon the council. However, don't let Tywin make things sound so damned dire. Of course you still have my love and respect, dears. Do not ever doubt that. But this...this is politics and that is ruthless business."

Their stomachs dropped again as Olenna leaned closer and they saw those icy predatory eyes assessing them.

"I cannot have you two creating any further ruckus. It puts all of us in danger. If you cannot be persuaded to join us, I must cut you loose. Considering you are my blood and I do care for your silly faces, I will give you each an out. If you do not wish to support me, I must withdraw my protection and support. I will offer a one time escort to the North for you. I can let you speak with the Starks or the Boltons on the radio, arrange a place for you there. Don't make a hasty choice, children. Silence. Take your time and think it over. Why don't you return at four and let us know your decisions."

 

An hour later the siblings were picking at their stale scrambled eggs when another knock came at the door.

This time it was Petyr and Varys. Sitting down on the worn velvet couch, the two pursed their lips at the angry siblings. His smooth voice, dripping with a terrible sympathy and understanding, Petyr started.

"I shall be honest. They are out of control, we do not enjoy being forced into the positions we are in. The rules and the Clegane tribe are not our choice. We see how it will fall, but our hands are tied. All we can do is hope that Cersei returns and then we can fix it. If you cannot wait for it to happen, I fear what might happen to you here. Your grandmother means to see her threat through."

Varys waved a delicate hand in thanks as Loras handed him a glass of juice.

"You are both lovely and have enjoyed a healthy life here. If your grandmother withdraws her support, your people won't care. But can they protect you from Gregor and his men? You will recieve the same bullying and brutality others get for rebellion, for being in the wrong place...or because the brutes are bored. You have to know you two will be an instant target for them. A good example to those that follow you. I think you can imagine what types of things his men could do to you both."

Margeary slumped in her chair and grabbed Loras's hand for support.

"Fine. We will go North then. Jaime and Brienne were going to find Cersei and go North anyway. They will all rally to battle and we shall return, with them, in full strength."

Varys sighed and gave them both another pitying look.

"Oh sweet girl, you don't really believe your grandmother was being truthful? She was truthful in her threat of withdrawing her support. But the escort won't really take you North. Once you have stupidly and easily walked into your own kidnapping, your grandmother is having you both put safely out of the way. Far away. You will both live under guard in your grandmother's previous home. I hear the far Southern borders are very pretty this time of year. Lots of gardening, bird watching, animals to paint."

Loras looked sick and he sat on the arm of Margeary's chair.

"Shit. I really believed that old cunt. Dammit. What the fuck do we do now? Margeary, I'm not ready to retire. We have to run."

Petyr sighed.

"Run? Where? All borders are closed off. You can't get out. Not without everyone seeing you do it. Maybe we can give you alternatives. We have a small bit of power left that the old fucks haven't siphoned away. We need to get the word out to rally all to war. We have a plan, if you two are truly ready to leave and fight the elders anyway you can."

Margeary and Loras listened carefully. They weren't happy with their parts to play in the rallying of a war but at least it was action. If only they could trust the shifting shadows in the men's eyes. They didn't see a choice and both agreed to the plan.


	13. A Peaceful Walk

"This just can't be happening to me twice. It can't. Fuck no."

Cersei leaped from the truck and aimed her rifle, scanning around. Robb took out his own gun and circled opposite of her. Jory and Ned worked on the steaming, shuddering engine.

"It's an old truck with a fucked up engine, Cersei, not a trap. We are on Northern land, scouts have alerted everyone we are here. Even if the truck dies, it is only about an hour on foot from here. I am sure Cat will have a nice hot bath and dinner ready for you. Jory was told that Roose Bolton has already shown. We are going to get your land back and Qyburn has already sent trackers out for your son."

Sighing, Cersei nodded but kept scanning.

"Thank you, Ned. I appreciate how you are already setting things up to help me. Poor Cat must be half mad between getting ready for guests and dealing with so many children. She always liked to show us her best domestic side. I am sure I won't be disappointed."

Robb snorted at the petty meanness in the woman's voice. He never understood why Cersei and his mother hated each other so much. It must be how they are so opposite of each other.

Once when his mother was on a drunken rant during a summer party, he made that very comment to his father. Ned laughed then whispered to Robb, it wasn't their differences that made the women hate each other.

It was the parts of them that were exactly alike that caused the problem.

Ten minutes later the truck gave up any pretense of working again and shuddered its way into a final death rattle. They gathered the gear, alerted the scouts and set off on foot.

Ned and Jory were amused that neither Cersei nor Robb would join in their conversation. Grimly, Cersei kept watch as they moved and Robb matched her step for step.

"Woman is out for vengeance and the boy is trying to prove his inner warrior to you. This is the easiest time ever for us, Ned. We don't have to worry about anything with these two. We can finally take the time for a healthy walk and a leisurely chat."

Ned laughed and shoved at Jory.

"I need this peace and relaxation. I'll need it soon enough. I'm about to put Cat and Cersei in the same space, in a home, no less. When they get together they belong in a fighting pit, not a house."

"Ha! It gets worse though. You also have to deal with Roose and Tyrion. Who do you think is going to get the worst of Cersei? Tyrion or Cat?"

Ned chuckled.

"I think Tywin, Kevan and Olenna are going to get the worst of Cersei. Cat and Cersei will hiss and scratch at each other, but both will turn as a force against an enemy. Tyrion and Cersei will exchange horrid insults. Then Tyrion will probably do like he did before. With hate in his eye and confused loyalty in his heart, he will help his sister get her lands back if he can. Or he might just say fuck it and keep journeying as he said he would. But I look at that woman's face and all I can think is, if Joff dies or never is found, Tywin Lannister might as well dig his own grave."

Jory gave a quick glance over at Robb and back at Ned with a small sad smile on his face.

"I watched him grow up. Watched them all grow up. I can't believe we are about to put Robb, Theon and Jon in a battle. I mean, hell, you and I trained them well enough. They are ready, as ready as can be, I suppose. Hell, even Arya has trained, even Sansa until...she couldn't."

The sound of galloping horses had them all hiding in the brush at the side of the road, Cersei and Robb ready to shoot. Ned saw who was coming and told the others to not move.

After the small group went by, Ned and the others got back on the road. Cersei glared with disgust down the road.

"Was that the repulsive goat man? I have heard rumors of his crimes, Ned. Does Roose still protect him?"

Ned grimaced and started walking again.

"Sadly, I believe that goat and his men are what was sent to find your son. Be glad of it, Cersei. They are a necessary evil, they are fierce fighters and very good trackers. They are savage enough get the information they need to find that tribe. They are brutal enough to murder as many cannibals as needed to find Joff. Isn't that what you want, Cersei? To find your son at all costs? At least you know that I have kept my word, the North is helping you. Don't sneer at it. Be just slightly grateful, okay?"

"How is Sansa, Ned? Still doing well under this Qyburn's instruction and care? I am surprised you still have her at home around the other children."

"Sansa is doing well. She takes the medication and follows every treatment recommended. We have taken extreme precautions, as you did with Joff. I understand you hurt right now but you cannot take it out on my daughter or my family. We did not kill Robert or steal your son, in fact we are the people willing to help you. What happened to your sense of politics, to that high society cultured voice? You are too petty and obvious with it today."

"I'm afraid watching my husband's head roll around me and seeing my son kidnapped by cannibals has affected my mood at little. You'll have to forgive me, Ned, but I'm beyond pissed right now. I am beyond feeling a bit irritated and I'm not enjoying this particular challenge as I usually do. I know you never cared for my boy, I am not stupid, I am aware of what he has become. I am also aware of what Sansa is and Cat was certain that Qyburn could help. I just went from a hopeful joy of a possible future for my son to wondering if I will ever see him again."

A radio attached to Jory's belt crackled and he spoke while Cersei and Ned spoke.

"Sorry to interrupt you two, but Cat received a radio contact from Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth. They have fled the South just in time apparently, before all Southern gates were closed. They are heading towards us, hoping to rally with Cersei."

"My father closed down the gates? All of them? At least Jaime got out in time. I was afraid if pushed by my father, he would fold like he used to without me to guide him."

Jory gave Cersei a look of sympathy.

"Apparently, your father has allowed the Mountain tribe to return and join the South. All who wish to leave or enter the South must get permission. I am sure your father knows you will come after him and is preparing for it."

Cersei swore and Ned tried to pat her shoulder in awkward comfort.

"Soon you will be sitting with Jaime, Tyrion, all of the North and we shall make the Elders pay for what they have done. We will chase the Mountain back into the wild soon enough."

"Oh yes, mustn't forget the siblings. A twisted little dwarf that can barely hold a gun or a conversation without copious amounts of wine that I despise and a brother with a golden arm and a shattered ego to match. Wonderful."

Cersei shrugged Ned's hand away and started to walk faster.


	14. Thump

Myranda held tight to Sansa's hand as they skirted their way in the dark, past others strolling, others patrolling.

Flitting through trees and then slipping out of hole in a back, nearly hidden fence. A delicate hand briefly covered Sansa's face when she tried to giggle at the joy of rebellion but she managed to calm herself.

Sansa followed Myranda's lead without much of a care beyond a dark thrill at the disobedience of it all. Out of breath and rather ragged looking from a dash through the forest, the two stopped at a dirt road and leaned against each other.

Now it was Myranda who giggled and that allowed Sansa to allow her own laughter rise. Sansa leaned back and let her mirth into the air as she looked up at the bloated moon. In a sky full of promise, full of freedom and adventure that she has been denied too long.

Sansa was startled when Myranda's mouth covered hers and another tongue invaded her own. She used her tongue to shove Myranda's back and encountered something terribly bitter. Gagging slightly, Sansa tried to pull away.

Those delicate hands became strong claws that clamped onto Sansa's head. Though the foreign tongue did retreat, Myranda's lips kept Sansa from spitting out the pill, mashing her own lips shut painfully.

Throaty chuckles seem to resonate from Myranda's throat as the bitter pill dissolved in Sansa's mouth. As soon as Myranda was sure it would be dissolved, she released Sansa.

"Calm yourself, sweetie. I'm not trying to rape you or poison you. You said you wanted to have this experience tonight, you wanted to live like I do, like Kyra and Ross do. Well, this is exactly what we do when we party, hell, when we work too. Unless we are at your mom's of course, then we are sober as judges. Now, look, I am taking one. It's a little dragon magic, the Targaryens make such lovely products. Up South they all get fancy patches, but here in our more chilly humble land, we can only afford these little pills. Don't worry, just go with the wonderful feeling of it. I will keep you safe while it's in you, I promise."

"How will I know when it's working? Will I see strange things?"

"You'll know when it kicks in, dear. And maybe you will see dragons."

 

Sansa was skipping as if she were seven years old. She and Myranda were singing and dancing as they passed the few trailer homes and businesses of the Strip. Myranda took a acidic joy in pointing out the whorehouse as they passed it.

"Ross is in there right now. And that is where your brothers spend most of their free time."

With pupils blown to an alternate universe, Sansa looked at the grime etched old school building and then back at Myranda.

"Why does Ross need to pay for sex? She is really pretty, she could get dates."

Myranda laughed and shook her head while reaching out to pat Sansa's cheek.

"No, love. Ross works in there. As in men and women can pay for her for sexual favors. Part time of course."

Gasping, Sansa took two steps as if to go inside the whorehouse and Myranda grabbed her arm. Walking fast towards the bar, Myranda tried to not laugh in the innocent nitwit's face.

"But...but...Ross works at the bar and a waitress at the restaurant. And my mother hires her a lot...why would she..."

"Sweetie, working at the bar gives Ross enough credit for a trailer home. The waitress gig gives her enough credit for all her meals. Your mother only keeps Kyra full time. The only way Ross or I can have enough credit or trade for more than basic survival is to work the whorehouse. Kyra used to work there too, you know. It was only after Theon started to really like her that she got her new job. I heard Theon had to practically beg Cat to take her on. Luckily, Kyra is sickeningly sweet and decent deep down and all her needs are cared for by the Starks. Those of us who still live here in Strip do what we must to survive."

"You don't have to stay here, you could move to Stark or Bolton land."

"True. Except that means I have to follow their rules. I don't like rules very much. Besides, I spend plenty enough time on the Bolton's land. I have a boyfriend there. Gloomy place, full of different rules than your home, but still rules, too many of them. I like my independence, I like to be free in every way."

 

Sansa allowed herself to be pulled into a smoky dim room that tortured her nose instantly. Pickled eggs and cheap alcohol pricked her nose while smoke tickled it. She sneezed twice then drew in a deeper breath, grinning.

It was all new, all different and the idea of adventure was truly blooming within her, enhanced by a new chemical excitement. A sweet feeling was rising within her and Sansa welcomed it with open arms.

The faces around her were a blur, she had no idea folks were staring at her or speaking of her in murmurs. Sansa drank a full mug of beer at Myranda's command. It was icy cold and tasted horrible. Sansa immediately demanded another.

She looked in awe at a lit neon jukebox. The music in it was old but it was good, it was loud and the rhythm took her away. Myranda was impressed at how well the lovely, sweet girl could dance.

Myranda wanted nothing more than to destroy this girl. Eat out her throat, expose the red meat and lay it open, to lick and chew while laying on the cooling body. No, it would upset Ramsay, it would upset Roose.

The punishment for killing this girl wouldn't be worth the joy of it. Myranda has seen the jackals at their worst and though she enjoys it, it isn't something she ever wishes to suffer. To be flayed alive slowly and left to die and rot as a warning to others? No, thank you.

So Myranda cannot kill Sansa but she can find other ways to obey and yet get some small revenge. It still burns her, buzzing in her head like angry insects. How dare Ramsay fuck her, tell her he loves her then ask her to bring him Sansa Stark?

Roose wants Ramsay to marry Sansa, to further their infected empire.

Myranda understands that Roose would never allow Ramsay to marry her, he thinks she is white trash. Roose is positive that Myranda tricked Ramsay into infecting her.

He is correct but wrong upon the reasons. Myranda doesn't care about Roose's damned silent war or empire, she cares about Ramsay. He is the only man who can match her in all ways. And Ramsay has never met a woman like Myranda.

A woman who enjoys sadism, crime and murder without a bit of conscience but a goodly amount of joy. Ramsay was in love with her as much but his damned father is always in the way. So Myranda accepted that she would remain his mistress.

At least out loud where anyone could hear her. To Ramsay and his father, she claimed loyalty and allegiance. She has been their eyes and ears for the Strip for years now. They had never managed to get their hands on Sansa.

Now Myranda can have approval from Roose and Ramsay will be impressed and pleased with her. But at what expense? This pretty, dumb, spoiled little girl that will never really grow up will take her place in Ramsay's bed.

So Myranda decided to at least have a little fun. Her job was to bring Sansa out of the Stark land and she has done that. Ramsay and his boys were in their usual loud mirth and chaos as they entered the bar.

Myranda got a dark thrill not just at Ramsay giving her a warm look but at his paled out surprise when he saw Sansa dancing next to her. She didn't go and greet her lover but instead grabbed Sansa, twirling her into another dance.

 

Ramsay grinned and looked at his boys, who were as startled as he was. Alyn's face crinkled up in concentration before he slowly spoke.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"Yes, it is. Myranda came through for me. I knew she would. Alyn, go contact my father. Tell him that Myranda brought me a lovely red present."

Alyn left and Ramsay climbed into his usual booth with his boys. They kept one eye on their drinks and the other upon the new girl. Ramsay figured a few more songs and Myranda would then bring the tired Sansa over.

But the beer was icy cold that Sansa was drinking, the pill was flying through her bloodstream and the music was wild. Sansa twirled, gyrated and gave herself over to it all. Myranda tired out before Sansa and leaned against the bar a mere few feet away. 

The one who was most shocked by the sudden splash of blood was Sansa herself. She never knew how warm and rich it could taste until she ripped out one of the other dancer's throats.

As chaos exploded around her, Myranda tried so hard not to laugh. She wondered idly how much money Qyburn would give her to tell him exactly how long it takes for a Targaryen drug to undo all of his work.

She kept out of the way, sitting upon the bar to watch the deadly redhead in action. It took Ramsay and his men a moment before they saw Sansa was truly out of any logical control. 

The girl went from the sweetest little crumpet to a swirling carnivore intent on killing the entire room.

Oh dear, Myranda hoped with a dark swelling hope that Ramsay might have no choice but to put the girl down.

 


	15. A Cannibal In Wolf's Clothing

Knowing Ned loves frugality and Roose loves his shadows, Cat had ordered candles lit in most rooms.

However, as Cat went back into the living room, she squinted and cursed the dimness. She paused, Roose's ice water in her hand as her eyes tried to locate him.

The wallpaper was pretty during the day but it was hellish to look at in the night. Delicate grapevines became dizzying squiggly lines and the small flowers seemed like squirming bugs. Cat gasped as several lines seemed to detach themselves and form into Roose.

"You should have Qyburn check your eyes, Cat. You just stared at me for thirty seconds before it registered to your brain. How have you been sleeping, my dear? You look too pale and hollow under the eyes. I daresay, you haven't looked this bad since Sansa got ill. Please, sit down and let's discuss things. We have received a great deal of information to discuss, plus I'd like to hear what is making you so stressed."

Cat was uneasy without a true reason why. The hostess in her straightened her back and gracefully brought the water to her guest. She sat down with Roose on the couch and reminded herself she has known this man over twenty years now.

And she has heard the rumors and did believe a good portion of them.

Yet, the man has never hurt or betrayed her husband or anyone of their family. He has been loyal and though his methods can be brutal, Roose does keep the peace.

He keeps the criminals and cannibals from their Northern lands and has an excellent mind for business. Ned was careful to make Roose stop his men and his son from public kills upon their lands.

He was explicit to Roose about the atrocities they would not stand for but Cat only wondered about all the atrocities Roose created in exchange. On the other hand, he never failed any order, even took in Theon and Jon when Cat couldn't stand to have them about her.

_A part of her always felt guilty over it. The looks on both boys faces told Cat and Ned that the experience was terrifying. Yet Ned loved his wife enough and she couldn't love the boys enough to ever call a halt to it._

_Any injuries they returned with were always reasonably explained away by the boys themselves. Jon usually had some bruises that were easily explained by looking at Ramsay and his friends. It was Jon's haunted eyes that truly made Cat actively work to bury worry._

_Theon usually came back looking worse than Jon. It was universally known that Theon invites fights with his braggart attitude so the bullies gave it to him. Except Theon walked the way someone who has tasted a whip._

_Each summer Cat winced to see how many new healed scars there were on his back. He always came home limping, usually with at least one broken bone and a need for stitches to be given or removed._

_Ned only gave weak questions and Cat gave none at all. Though she did send them both to the local doctor that lived on Stark land after every visit, Cat never asked for a report, only patching._

_Cat and Ned uneasily reasoned to themselves if anything truly terrible were happening, the boys or doctor would blurt it out. They knew they were lying to each other and themselves. It was easier that way._

Roose gave Cat a thin smile and it flickered in the candle light. Hiding a sudden shiver of revulsion, Cat gave a sliver of a smile back.

"Forgive me, Roose. I am high-strung tonight. Dealing with teenagers isn't easy, girls are harder than boys, trust me. Add onto the arrival of guests...now I am going to not just host Tyrion and his strange friends but a vengeful, mourning mother and replaced leader. She will be hellbent on revenge and burn anger on all until she gets her son and land back."

It seemed as if Roose moved closer even though Cat was looking at him the whole time. He was still and yet, Cat felt he was too close all at once. His eyes seemed to burn at her, through her and he seemed...hungry. It couldn't be for food since they ate only an hour ago.

Lust sounded silly too. Never once since they met has Roose ever flirted with her nor attempted even true friendship with Cat. Ned was as close to a friend as Roose seems to have ever had. Cat felt a small zap of alarm go through her and she felt threatened without cause.

Never in Cat's life was she so happy to hear Tyrion's voice.

"Please excuse me for skipping supper with you both and only showing at this late hour. The ferals are nervous creatures and I needed to soothe them."

Roose's face seemed to thin out with a cold rage then it smoothed out fast into an icy polite mask of disdain.

"Hello, Tyrion. It is indeed late and we should consider her sleeping children when coming over."

Snorting and weaving only slightly, Tyrion helped himself to the wet bar while responding airily to Roose.

"Ah, my good Sir! Have you seen the circus around here that this amazing woman commands! The smallest boys are used to their older siblings noise and sleep through bombs! As for the older ones, they are most certainly nowhere near to sleeping yet. Hell, we might all be slumbering before they are."

Before Roose could give a sharp retort one of his men slightly entered the doorway. Excusing himself, Roose went to the hallway, pulling his man with him.

Tyrion grinned at Cat.

"If you just wished to bring me here to meet Roose, you could have saved yourself the trouble. The man doesn't care for me and I have to say, he gives me the shivers. I am equally intrigued and terrified of him."

Cat took the drink that Tyrion handed her and gulped it. She handed the glass back and Tyrion gave her another and one for himself of course.

"You are smart to stay away from him and his estates. Roose is also very intolerant of ferals and cutthroats. I didn't ask you here to greet Roose. I wanted to give you an update on your family. Ned is on his way back with Cersei. The truck broke down and they are on foot now, it will take another two days perhaps for them to return."

Tyrion nodded and swirled his wine. Roose came back into the room to softly apologize that he must go assist with a small problem in the Strip.

"I shall be back as soon as this is sorted, Cat. Goodnight, Tyrion, pleasure to see you again."

Roose's voice told Tyrion that seeing him was anything but a pleasure but he gave a large smile back and waved cheerily.

"A definite pleasure for me as well! Be careful out there, Roose! Don't want to have you get eaten by anything or anyone."

 

Tyrion was gently ushered out after his drink and he gave a drunken kiss to Cat's hand before he carefully staggered down her porch stairs. He made it to the guest house and missed the doorknob only once.

Upon entering and shutting the door, Tyrion checked to see the curtains were all pulled shut. Then he hurried to wake Podrick and the ferals only to find them already awake and sitting on their bags.

Tyrion's stagger seemed to magically disappear as did the slur in his words.

"You win. We are leaving tonight no matter how late Bronn gets back. Cat was naturally tense but there was something about Roose. He looked like he was about to launch at her. I have never seen that kind of thing before with Roose. And I have never seen Cat fear any man in her life. Two new scary things in one night is my limit. Then it was broken by hearing my sister is almost here. She will be wanting her son and land back at any cost. I will not risk any of us being included in that cost. So that is now three terrible things in one night. We leave the second Bronn returns. Let's pack his stuff so he doesn't have a reason to protest."

Tyrion laughed when Podrick pushed Bronn's fully packed bag forward.

"Already done, Tyrion. Jeyne will go to the roof to watch for Bronn's return or any potential dangers coming. I am going to patrol and keep watch on the ground around the guesthouse. Hot Pie is going to keep you in hiding and from drinking yourself silly during a time we might need your wits."

Podrick paused as Tyrion stopped grumbling long enough to ask a clear question.

"Uh, do you know if Bronn was visiting the whorehouse or the pub tonight?"

"He didn't exactly say, but I think he was going to hit both. Why does it matter?"

"It probably doesn't. But Roose left suddenly because of a small disruption in the Strip, according to him. Yet, why would you call the top man for a small problem in an area where an acceptable amount of crime is always being enacted? I just hope whatever the small issue is, it isn't in whichever establishment Bronn is in."

Podrick and Tyrion stared at each other for a moment.

"Ah fuck. Don't ask to go after him, Podrick. I know it's upon your lips but silence it. He is a way better fighter on his worst day than you are on your best day. You'll only probably get yourself into trouble then I have two missing to worry about. I have a better idea."

 

Tyrion found Jon in the lit barn with Arya. He was teaching the teenager to sword fight of all things. She was actually quite good and kept Jon dancing to avoid her blade. He had seen the girl practicing archery earlier in the day with Theon.

In spite of Theon's arrogant, taunting attitude, Arya had done well for a girl her age. He reminded her of how the women were during the war. How young Cat, how Cersei and the others were.

Tyrion smiled warmly at Arya's fierce expression and wondered if Ned knew what a talented firebrand he had on his hands. If he stopped training the boys to notice Arya was as good as grown men. Somehow, he doubted it.

Like Tywin, Ned underestimates his younger children because they are smaller.

"Please forgive the intrusion. Arya, you are simply amazing. Remind me never to anger you or be near the pointy end of your sword. Would you mind terribly if I spoke with your brother in private for a moment?"

Arya blushed but smiled proudly as she nodded, out of breath. She put her sword into her belt and grabbed a towel.

"I need to shower and head to bed anyway before Mother blows a gasket. If she finds me out past curfew with creepy Bolton men around, she'll have a heart attack."

Tyrion grinned and Jon laughed.

"We certainly do not wish that to happen, young lady. However, on my way over I can tell you I only saw four Bolton men. All leaving with Roose, they won't be back until later tonight. Also, Theon is patrolling, giving everyone a hard eye. He didn't turn his back on a single man until they left. I doubt the slender shark is about to let anyone get past his ego to hurt you."

Arya giggled at Tyrion.

"A shark? I suppose when he is in the water, Theon does act like a shark. He is nice and helpful when he wants to be, even though most times he is an asshole."

Jon lightly swatted Arya's head and shoved her towards the barn door.

"Alright, that is enough. Your mother would wash your mouth with soap if she heard you swearing. Go to bed, we can practice more tomorrow night. Walk safely and be silent enough to sneak past your mother. Otherwise, it's me and Theon she will blame for you breaking curfew."

Arya gave a wicked grin as she walked as slowly as she could out the door, humming. Jon shook his head and then leaned against the bench while polishing his sword.

"What can I do for you, Tyrion?"

"I am coming to you with information you will really need in exchange for a rather small favor. I can assure you the favor is way less interesting than the information. I don't want to take it to your mother as she is very stressed and might react rashly. And I would never trust that shark with your family's troubles."

Jon sheathed his sword and leaned towards Tyrion.

"Tell me and I'll do your favor. Is it my father or brother?"

Tyrion sighed in relief and shook his head quickly.

"No, not them. Your sister Sansa was seen by my ferals leaving your lands with Myranda. I assume they went to the Strip. Which is exactly where Roose just suddenly rushed off to. He told Cat in front of me that there was a small crisis to be handled in the Strip and he would be back. What problem could be small if it needed the warden himself to handle it? Listen, the favor is this. I know you are about to head off to find your sister and I truly hope you do find her safe and sound. But while you are in the Strip, find Bronn. Tell him I said to head back now. Please. It is time for me and my group to leave."

Jon nodded.

"If I see him, I will tell Bronn to head back to you. I need to get Theon and head out for Sansa. If Cat discovers Sansa is missing there will be hell to pay. She might have missed her medications, dammit. I will leave another in charge of defense while we are gone. Stay in your cabin with your friends, please. I hope that whatever happened in the Strip, she avoided it. I hope Sansa doesn't run into Roose Bolton. I will never get her home without Cat knowing then."

Tyrion headed back towards the cabin and heard Jon murmur hurriedly to Theon. He heard the arrogant jerk ask what the fuck was Myranda thinking to take the redheaded headcase out of bounds. Whatever response Jon gave was cut off by Tyrion shutting the door.

He threw himself into a chair and asked Hot Pie to bring him a drink. The lad did so and then the boy fiddled with his slingshot and ball bearings.

"I sent the two kids that Cat won't care are missing after Sansa. In exchange, they will find Bronn and tell him to return to us right away. It's the best I can do. I have to say knowing that I might be helping that poor girl makes me feel a bit better."

Hot Pie didn't look any less tense and Tyrion decided to ignore it. He polished off his glass and found himself arguing with Hot Pie, who hid the bottles of wine. The boy was taking the order not to let Tyrion get drunk quite seriously. Much to Tyrion's dismay.

The increasingly loud argument was broken by Jeyne popping her head into a window.

"Over the trees, smoke and fire. Towards where the men were riding, towards where those girls went. Where Bronn went."


	16. A Wild Time Had By All

His tongue felt thick and a painful crack hit Skinner's face then Ramsay shoved him hard into the wall.

"Stay with me! Hey! Fucking CONTROL it! Look at me! I am fucking ordering you to control it. Breathe."

Another slap to his cheek and he focused upon Ramsay's icy eyes.

"Don't fucking snarl at me, bitch. Control it. Or we are going to die tonight. It's that fucking simple, Skinner. Whether you get ripped to shreds here or my father kills you if you turn cannibal. You with me, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm hearing you. I'm better. Ah, fuck...she got Damon. His face, Ramsay, she's eating his-"

Ramsay moved just in time as Skinner lost all his cheap beer onto the blood covered floor. Lucky for Skinner, Alyn was still able to focus and blocked him from the raging crowd.

When Sansa began to attack, folks either ran for the door or attempted to take her down. Those who are from the Bolton estate that were controlled infected instantly seemed to lose control. Like Ramsay and his boys, they all attempted to keep themselves in check.

The savagery, the scent of blood, the pain of her injuring them, it sent a yearning through them all. Soon Sansa was joined by nearly half of the room. All of them ready to kill and eat every person they can reach that won't eat them back.

Sansa was laying upon Damon's spread eagle body and her hands curled around his head gently, as if they were lovers. Except her face was burrowing into his, chewing busily into soft red meat.

Skinner moaned and hurriedly stood up straight, wiping his mouth. Slowly, he backed out of the room along with Alyn, following Ramsay. Once they were out, Ramsay shut and barricaded the door.

"This won't hold them long. Radio for help, Skinner. Alyn, get to the truck and get the guns. Remember, when they break out, try not to kill Sansa if possible."

Skinner radioed to Roose and joined Ramsay and Alyn. They made a pitifully small firing squad for the cannibals trying to break down the bar door. A window smashed and Ramsay swore, gesturing to Alyn to go handle that exit.

Just as the first shots were fired from Alyn's gun, the bar door burst open.

 

The attendant of the gas station saw the cannibals and managed to run over to the bell tower in spite of his arthritis. Not being eaten alive was compelling against any pain.

For a moment, he leaned against the tower and caught his breath before making his way back to the station. A few of the cannibals had begun running away from the men with guns and one headed towards him.

The simple man who ran the gas station at nights managed one cry of "Hodor!" before he was attacked and his throat eaten. 

 

Bronn and Ros were done for the second time around when they began hearing clanging bells, screams and gun shots. Leaning out the window, Ros swore and turned pale.

"Cannibals! Bolton's kid and his boys are shooting cannibals at the bar! How the fuck did that happen? How the hell did cannibals get into the Strip, never mind a fucking bar?"

Bronn dressed fast and grabbed his gun.

"Get dressed and lock yourself in your room, sweetheart. Just in case."

Snorting, Ross threw on a robe and got out her own gun. All through the whorehouse the sound has changed. Windows and exits were being shut and locked as each worker found a position on the roof or at gun holes located in doors and windows.

Bronn found himself trapped inside and shrugged. He went to the roof and found a position. His eyes squinted and then he nudged Ross.

"Cannibals at the bar, you said? So...who the fuck is torching and attacking from the other end of the road?"

 

Myranda laughed and pulled Sansa away from the crowd rushing out the door. Sansa snarled with Damon smeared teeth and Myranda grinned her own bloody ones back.

"No..nono. Don't run with them. Ramsay and the boys are going to shoot them. You don't want to risk a bullet in your head, do you? No more meat then, Sansa. Come with me. No, see? Window is already covered, hear the shots? Follow me, this way. We girls, we used a secret back door. If a client from the whorehouse would come here and think to get something for free, we could sneak out."

Myranda shoved the gore slick girl into the storage room and out a small door hidden behind a rolling cabinet. The fresh air hit them only moments before the smoke did. It was still light and didn't choke them.

Both girls laughed at the bloated moon and ran towards the thick trees. They were going to find fresh meat where there was no smoke or forewarned meat with guns at the ready. 

 

"LIGHT EM UP, FIRE THIS WHOLE FUCKIN STRIP UP!"

Mance's voice bellowed rough and deep over the fierce hollers of his Wildlings. They ran to trailers, ramshackle homes and threw lit bottles of gasoline through the windows. Stores were robbed then set ablaze.

Running out of the homes, residents of the Strip fought back. Guns blazed and arrows flew, clubs and bats smashed, daggers and a few machetes sliced through flesh like butter.

A fearsome Wildling wearing a skull mask was raping a woman while slowly slitting her throat. Mance looked away, he did not agree with that kind of brutal thing but he did not judge others.

He lit a cigar and puffed while slowly strolling among the chaos. Winking cheerfully at Ygritte as the fierce redhead put an arrow through some shrieking blonde girl's head then kept heading up the road.

"Take everythin' we need and see if we ave any fancy folk 'ere tonight. Only take a captive if they can be worth somethin'."

With a sharp nod, Osha followed after Ygritte towards the small grocery store. One of the men that had ridden ahead upon a horse suddenly yelled back.

"Careful ahead! Mance, fuckin' cannibal attack! The Bolton brat is shootin' at em with some buddies and townies!"

With a guffaw, Mance gave a thumbs up to Tormund.

"Let us go 'elp the boy! Then take 'im for safekeepin' til daddy offers some good trade." 

Tormund winced as he saw three of his own fall to bullets raining from the whorehouse roof. He growled then gestured to some of his best men.

"I want anyone at the fuck 'ouse with a gun to be dead.  See to it for me. Don' care if ya fuck an kill the whole way."

He waited for Mance to catch up to him and they headed for Ramsay Bolton and the cannibals on horse.

 

Ramsay was on top of his truck with Skinner, each down to a bullet when the few other bar patrons that had run, returned with guns. That helped, but as a few cannibals bit and others veered off towards other directions, it wasn't enough.

He looked down the road and had cursed mightily upon seeing the invading Wildlings. Skinner looked to see what Ramsay was flipping out about and lost his mind.

"Are you fucking kidding me? How? Cannibals and Wildings? I mean what the fuck, Ramsay? Is this a hallucination or a damned test from your father? I can't take this shit anymore, fucking stressful, man. Too fucking much!"

Both became confused when Mance and Tormund came shooting the cannibals. Why would they help the Strip or a Bolton for that matter? Ramsay decided not to wait for an answer to that question.

 

He jumped off the truck and he and Skinner got in it. Ramsay felt bad but he couldn't wait for Alyn, he just floored it.

The tires were blown out and the truck rode on it's rims briefly.

Skidding, the truck landed in a small ditch just after the bell tower and Ramsay growled in frustration. They were out of bullets, they would be only armed with knives against two types of enemies.

"Fuck it. Get ready to run, Skinner. We are going to have to head into Stark land to escape, we can't cross over to our own right now. It's our only option. Let's hope we run into my father, we can head towards the Winterfell road once we are deep enough." 

The two ran into the woods and for about five minutes, Ramsay thought they were going to make it. Then Sansa and Myranda seemed to launch out of nowhere. Skinner screamed as Sansa landed upon him, her teeth snapping off his nose.

Myranda knocked Ramsay down and his blade slid into her side. Hollering, Myranda tried to bite his throat and Ramsay tried to hold her off by squeezing her small throat. However, the blood-lust gave the thin girl a strength that made even Ramsay feel weak and soft.

Her drool dripped upon his forehead then Myranda's pretty but crazed features sheared away into pink mist and a jaw. Ramsay gagged as her gore landed on his face. He could hear the deep throat chuckle of the North's other worst enemy over him.

"Lil' Ram Ram. You remember me, boy, don'cha? You like to hunt girls. Anyone's girls. Some of my girls. An yet, 'ere I am, a good man, savin' your fuckin' ass. Guess your daddy'll owe me a favor or two, for it. Take 'im, Tormund."


	17. Small Sacrifices

Arya waited until Tyrion had returned home and made sure Jon and Theon had left before grabbing her sword and backpack. She was about to saddle her horse when she heard a voice.

"How stupid do you kids all think I am?"

Spinning around, Arya stared at her mother. Cat stood in the stall holding a rifle with a scope.

"Don't you think shooting me for being out after curfew is a bit overboard, Mother?"

Rolling her eyes, Cat grabbed her daughter's arm and briskly walked her out of the barn.

"Smell that smoke? It's coming from the Strip. Where Roose, Theon and Jon have gone. Where I hope Sansa isn't but I am afraid she is. And you wanted to give me another daughter to worry about? I have already heard reports on the radio. Cannibals and Wildlings. Both at once is nearly unheard of. You aren't prepared for that kind of fight, Arya. Jon and Theon aren't prepared for that which is why I would have forbade them to go...if I hadn't just discovered your sister ran away. I hope they find her and all return safely. But all I can do now is keep you, your little brothers and all here as safe as possible. So if you want to truly be helpful then help me ready for a fight I hope won't happen."

 

The boys were awake, all the lights were on, fuck the energy drain.

Every servant, every armed sentry was alert and making sure that no Wildlings or cannibals were heading there way. Others with medical experience were readying ambulances to travel towards the Strip to offer help for the wounded.

Cat had allowed Arya to help patrol the perimeter of the woods and it only took a moment before she heard the crack of a branch above her. Swinging about, the overly enthusiastic girl nearly shot an arrow through the feral girl.

Large eyes stared at the arrow stuck in the bark next to her head.

"Jeyne? What are you doing? I could have killed you! Go back to the cabin with the others, it's not safe out here!"

"You are more danger to me than your enemies. I wasn't bothering you, just following. Had to tell you something. You have all been nice to us. You did not have to be. So I offer you information. It is a good trade. A good pay, good coin. Then I am taking my brother and leaving your land."

Arya waited while Jeyne landed lightly upon the ground in front of her. The girl might be strange and flighty and feral, but her eyes were honest and her voice was scared and serious.

"The man I saw come here today. The Bolton? Stay away from him. Keep your mother from him. Don't let him close, girl. He is infected, I can tell. Tyrion and your mother won't believe me if I tell them. They are all nice to me and my brother, but they won't listen to a feral instinct. I think you or your little brothers will listen and know I am telling you the truth. He is dangerous, be careful of him. And..something is coming for you, for here. Be ready. Can't you hear it?"

The girl was gone before Arya could form a single question.

 

Arya continued her patrol while pondering Jeyne's information on Roose. It could be true, after all wasn't her own sister a tamed infected? But what if Roose wasn't tame but simply waiting, hiding it for a worse reason?

Two other scouts that were on the same detail as Arya came by just as something exploded from the woods. 

Arya fell back as a huge painted mountain bike blew past her. Three others followed it and the scouts were already firing. One rider fell, his bike spinning out of control until it crashed into a tree.

"Fuck! Wildlings!"

Arya scrambled up and reloaded her crossbow, engaging in her first fight as three more Wildlings on horse back crashed out of the trees.

 

Cat had ordered Bran and Rickon to stay in the house with Kyra.

Thank goodness the girl had stayed out of the Strip tonight. Cat didn't know that Kyra had been asked by Theon to remain on the estate. To keep an eye on Cat and Roose since Theon and Jon were told to remain on outdoor duty.

But when the bells of the Stark tower began to ring as loudly as the Strip ones had been, everyone scrambled. Cat flew out the door and Kyra ran to get her gun.

"Roof! Climb up to the roof and stay there, boys! I'll be right up."

Kyra sealed the doors and windows then headed up the stairs, then ran up the ladder in the attic. She gulped in the chilly night air as her eyes scanned for the boys. Bran and Rickon were hanging over the edge of the roof to watch the action.

"Don't make yourselves targets! Move back a bit, Bran."

It didn't seem like very many attackers and they were being taken down at a rapid rate. Bran figured it was a group of the Wildlings that figured why hit the Strip when there was a chance to attack an undefended Stark estate.

He watched with a certain smugness as the ragged enemies were being fought and killed. Rickon gasped as a large man aimed high and fired towards them.

Bran didn't even feel like he was shot, even as he fell down. Kyra shot at the large man while Rickon leaned over his brother.

"Tears? You pussy, what are you crying for?"

Rickon might have replied but that is when Bran's brain decided it was a grand time for a little nap.

After the man was splayed dead upon the lawn below, Kyra turned to hug little Rickon.

"Maybe he will wake up and I think we have a wheelchair! We used it when he broke his leg climbing, remember? Kyra?"

"Rickon, I am not a doctor but I don't think we can help this with a wheelchair. Not this time, honey."

She gently covered the boy with a hole in his chest with her sweater. The unseeing eyes seemed to stare at Rickon until they were gone from view.

"I need to help fight, Kyra. Let me fight them, I am going to kill them!"

Kyra hugged the raging little boy and kept them out of the line of anymore potential fire, bells still clanging in their ears.

 

Cat had no idea if her children were safe or not. It was a terrible worry gnawing with sharp teeth in the back of her head. Her main focus was on training her gun on filthy Wildlings and blowing their heads off.

She found herself full of adrenaline and indignation that these enemies would dare disturb the peace of her land. Cat found herself falling back into her youth. Her world narrowed to the fight and a terrible smile played upon her lips as her finger lovingly pulled the trigger.

If Tyrion, Podrick and the ferals weren't fleeing past to head for the gates, Cat might have joined Bran in the afterlife in the next moment. Podrick shot one of the two hulking Wildlings sneaking up on Cat from behind.

The other darted away into the cover of the trees as Cat swung with her gun up. Sadly, as the other began to run, he shot back at Podrick. Tyrion and the ferals looked down in shock at their dead friend.

Cat gave them a sharp nod and a harsh command.

"Run. Get through the gates and warn my husband! Tyrion, please go tell Ned to hurry!"

"I will. Try and be safe, Cat."

 

Rattleshirt watched Cat run towards the other armed Stark people.

He stared after Tyrion and the two ferals with a bitter eye. When Bolton townsfolk as well as Roose himself showed in the Strip, it was time to leave.

He saw Mance and Tormund with the Bolton boy all bound and gagged, pissed looking too. A flare of jealousy arouse in him as always. Why shouldn't some glory be his? It could have been his idea to kidnap the brat?     

So since the cannibals were battling Roose and his men, Mance and his most loyal of toadies taking off with their prize, he came up with his own idea. Snagging some of the stragglers, Rattleshirt decided to pay a quick visit to the Stark estate.

Mance had heard on the radio how the civilized lands were in turmoil. Hearing that the Stark men were off to find a deposed Southern queen, that Roose was off to visit the Northern queen is what prompted Mance's raid on the Strip.

Rattleshirt figured if Roose was at the Strip, who was watching the Stark estates? No one of enough power that he felt could overtake all of them. A small raid and surely he will get a Starkling or perhaps the lady herself for a ransom.

He could imagine everyone's face as he strolled into camp with a Stark prize. Ned himself would have to grovel to them then along with Roose. Dreaming of those lost accolades, Rattleshirt tracked the three that seemed to be trying to flee out the front gate like cowards.

In spite of his annoyance at their friend halting his hostage attack, Rattleshirt wouldn't have bothered to chase them. But he hated to leave empty handed and he heard Cat ask the little man to warn Ned Stark.

The name Tyrion made him snarl, one of those Southern fucking Lannisters. Giving in to a yearning need, Rattleshirt gave the dwarf a powerful kick from behind as if he were a ball. 

With a great feeling of satisfaction, Rattleshirt watched the man fly up and then crash hard into the dirt with a "ack" sound. He began to circle the thin, pretty feral who held a knife easily. She crouched low and growled, her eyes never leaving him.

The boy had run into the trees out of sight as soon as Tyrion landed like a deformed bird. Rattleshirt sneered at the cowardice of the disgusting feral. He grinned with rotted teeth at the girl though. Might be a feral but she was good looking, in a fragile sort of way.

Would be fun to play with and worth selling as a slave to that Jorah guy.

"Here, lil' kitty, kitty. I won't hurt ya..."

"Name is Jeyne. I will hurt you. Go away before you make me cut you."

Rattleshirt chuckled.

"Oh, look at you, my, my, what a spitfire. You look like a hissing, spitting kitty cat, it's adorable. But it's gonna get you hurt, Jeyne. Jeynie, Jeyne, pretty name. Give me the blade or I am going to hurt you with it, Jeyne."

"Okay, I will give it to you."

He laughed harder as he moved just in time to avoid a good slice. Then small rocks began to hit him hard enough to make him cry out in pain. Trying to block his head, Rattleshirt was barely able to kick the girl away in time, her blade too close this time.

Yanking out his gun, he shot into the trees. With a scream, Jeyne leaped onto his whole arm as if a deranged monkey. Her teeth bit deep and her whole body tried to drag his arm down. 

Tyrion had finally regained his feet but was still searching for his gun. Rattleshirt allowed his weight to crush Jeyne into the ground as he allowed her to lead his arm down. He landed upon her hard, smiling as she gasped for air.

He used his other arm to pull out his own blade, ready to give her a tiny taste of it to make her behave.

"NO! Wait! We surrender, don't cut her, don't kill her! Please, we surrender!"

Rattleshirt looked up to see the boy holding that fucking slingshot in his outstretched hands. He seemed to think Rattleshirt was going to kill the girl. Good enough. The two of them were in good health, the girl pretty and the boy was submissive.

If nothing else, he will get a good price for these two out of tonight. He looked back down at the girl and leered.

"You want to be smart and surrender now? Or should I slit your throat in front of both of these two buddies of yours? Won't be a pretty sight for them."

The girl gave a begrudging nod and Rattleshirt stood up, tossing her blade. He yanked the slight feral up by her shirt and she instantly jumped away to her friend. The two stood still but the intense look to their eyes made Rattleshirt wary.

"If you try and bolt, I'll cut you down. Hear me?"

Tyrion darted to stand in front of the imposing Wildling, staring up at the mask, trying to find his eyes.

"Please, listen to me. You don't need them, they aren't of any importance to you. Take me instead, I'll be a great hostage. I am Tyrion Lannister, my family rules the South. Imagine the ransom you could recieve? Just let these two go and take me. What are two ferals good for compared to the son of a Lannister?"

"I don't need you. You are useless to me, little man. Lannisters are South, we don't go there, they never are here. Who the fuck needs a dwarf in this world? I can't ransom you, your entire South is fucked up now. Owned by the Mountain I hear, you think Gregor would let some elderly fuck waste time and money on you? I hear Robert died, boy is infected and your sister is homeless. Go hide until things are over and then comfort your pathetic family. Or I can just shoot you and save some one else the trouble."

"We will go with you! Don't shoot him, please! He is harmless, really. Just take us, don't hurt our friend. Tyrion, stop talking and run away, okay?"

"And not towards the gates either, little man. No warnings needed tonight. Now run away while I am still feeling generous."

Rattleshirt looked at the two ferals, ignoring Tyrion's blustering.

"Stretch out your hands for me."

Both complied with their eyes on Tyrion, urging him to leave. They dared not to try and run or attack for fear that the man will shoot Tyrion in punishment. Rattleshirt handcuffed the two together by their left wrists. Then he also chained their left ankles.

"If you plan to take them, you must take me too."

All three stared at Tyrion. Rattleshirt tilted his head and studied the small man as if he were a unicorn.

"What did you say?"

"I said, you must take me if you are taking my friends, I demand it. I promised them I wouldn't desert them like everyone else. I refuse to break my promise. So here are my wrists, go ahead and chain them. Or I will just follow you about, so I can be with Jeyne and Hot Pie."

"Tyrion, no! Run away, quick! This isn't funny, stop joking and run!"

Ignoring Jeyne's advice, the dwarf blocked Rattleshirt's path.

"You are fucking crazy, little man. But you amuse me. Tell you what, I will take you. Crazy little shit."

 

 


	18. Little Boys Lost

Theon and Jon just stared for a moment, trying to understand the chaos from beyond the trees just before the Strip begins.

"I see cannibals, Roose and his men are dealing with them. Fucking Wildlings are everywhere like roaches. Townsfolk need our help with the criminals. Let's cut down those runners."

Jon shook his head, still thoughtful.

"They aren't attacking anymore. They are mostly running back home. Why? They aren't scared of Roose that badly, are they? Clearly, they see that Roose's men are busy fighting cannibals, so why leave so fast? What do they have with them that could be that important? We should follow, track them and see what or who they have. They love hostages and I don't see Ramsay Bolton anywhere, do you? I see his friend Alyn and he looks fucking terrified. What if Mance got Ramsay? We are duty bound to save him."

Theon glared at Jon even as his hands trembled slightly upon the reigns of his horse.

"Good. If they did steal Ramsay, they can fucking keep him. I won't chase criminals to save a worse monster. You know, Jon, you know what he's done. Let Roose save his own son if he cares enough to. I am willing to fight any Wildling I can reach, but I won't waste my time or life to try and save that fucking bastard. Fuck Roose. Fuck Ramsay."

Jon opened his mouth to protest then sighed and shut it, nodding.

He despised Ramsay but it went even deeper with Theon, much deeper. Hate, yes, but an awful fear and a pleading that is painful to hear. It makes Jon squirm which only reminds him of his own demons and feelings concerning Roose.

Spurring their horses forward, Theon and Jon shoved their personal traumas down to go save others from another trauma.

 

"Bitch, come on, move yer ass!"

Osha hissed, waving at Ygritte.

Four Wildlings have already carried off the heaviest items for them. Ygritte stopped flipping through the magazines and shoved them into her overstuffed pack. Each were lugging four full bags of supplies out the door when they were stopped.

Jon and Theon smirked down at the two women.

"Doing some shopping, ladies? Drop the bags and I'll let you two run since you are so pretty. Want a ride back home, hmmm? Right on our laps?"

Jon flushed at Theon's taunting but he was just as amused. The redhead had such a fierce look upon her delicate features and Theon was already leering at the body of the brunette.

The women glanced at each other then looked back up at the men. The brunette fluttered long lashes over large eyes and the redhead managed to form a quivering pout as if she might cry.

"Please, don't hurt us! We are just so hungry. Can't we take a little of it? Just a small, few things? We want to learn to have soft skin and pretty silky hair. We want to try chocolate and candy. Please, at least a little bread so we won't lose our lovely figures?"

The voice was so overly sweet that Theon raised his eyebrow.

"Are you trying to be sarcastic and rude to me? After I was about to be kind to you?"

Ygritte smiled and gave a small playful shove to Osha.

"Sorry for my friend, she gets sarcastic when she is nervous. We are just sore we cannot bring home any bounty. You said you would let us go."

Jon nodded and he kicked Theon's shin, making both their horses prance nervously for a moment.

"Yes, he did say that. We will honor it. You may both go, but your bounty must stay here."

"Wait! Tell me your names first. In case we hear of you again, don't want to spoil you by allowing later offenses to slide."

Osha glanced up at Theon's self important smug face and responded.

"I am Osha. This is Ygritte. I doubt you'll ever hear of us again. Only in yer dreams, little boy."

Ygritte sneered and rolled her eyes.

"Oh please, can we go now?"

Osha turned to walk backwards as the two men seemed to be content to follow them.

"And what are yer names so we can avoid you?"

Theon swelled with arrogant pride.

"I am Theon Greyjoy. This is Jon, Ned Stark's son."

Ygritte tilted her head and said without turning around,

"Aren't you worried about telling who you are? What if Mance were still here and heard you just boldly announce yourselves? He would love an important hostage."

Theon and Jon laughed a little bit.

"If Mance were still here then yes, I might worry. But he is already long gone and you two are the stragglers we are talking to. By the time you can report to anyone of seeing us, it will be too late."

Osha shrugged and kept walking. A moment later a car on fire exploded and that was all the distraction needed.

Ygritte's arrow lodged into Jon's shoulder and the impact of it knocked him off his horse.  Osha's blade had plunged deep into Theon's leg and he also fell. A blade at each of their throats prevented them from reaching for their holstered guns.

"A Stark boy for Mance. Better than bringing back shitty supplies any day. And a bigger prize than the Bolton boy that Mance stole."

Jon opened his mouth to reply to that and Ygritte whacked his head with the bone handle of her knife. He lay dazed as she hurried to confiscate his gun and cuff his hands behind his back.

"What use do I have for a Theon Greyjoy? Who would ransom for you? I think you feel yer special, but I don't see it. But I won't go home with nothing. So you are going to pick up those bags for me, all of them and I'm taking yer horse. Then you can limp home and tell them all how male arrogance almost saved the day...but didn't. How you were tricked by mere females. Douche bag."

Theon raged inwardly as he sullenly stared at the barrel of his own gun in his face. He begrudgingly waited until Osha backed up, then did as she ordered.

"Now, help us get your friend onto the horse with Ygritte."

"No. I won't help you kidnap Jon. Go on and shoot me if you want. I don't help fucking criminals."

He stood firm and resolute as Osha scowled at him. Clicking off the safety, Osha spoke softer. 

"Being a douche nugget isn't a reason to shoot you. Not wanting to help yer buddy get taken, I get too. But I can't have you following us and trying to save him. Sorry, you handsome arrogant fucker. Bet you'd have been fun in bed too."

Theon tried to fling himself out of the way, at least out of killing range. He heard the shot and felt a warm numbness before the road came up to meet him.

Osha and Ygritte hurried to put the dizzy, groaning Jon onto the horse, throwing him on sideways. They galloped off with Osha and the bags on Theon's horse, Ygritte and Jon on his own steed.

Holding his side, Theon helplessly watched them ride off. He made it to his feet just as smoke began to clear.

Theon staggered into the woods, heading back towards the Stark estate. He would rather tell Cat that Jon was kidnapped then tell Roose that his son was taken. He feared and despised the man as much as his son.

 

Holding tight to his wounded side, Theon staggered. Unaware that a trail of blood splatters fell as he walked.  The pain and shock were doing him in. Adrenaline has left and Theon was moving on willpower mostly.

He sniffed and was confused. Why was there smoke coming from home, not just the Strip? Theon's eyes went wide with horror when he heard the gunfire and screams.

He began to run towards the estate, his dagger already out. Damn those girls for stealing all his weapons! A girlish giggle came from his left and Theon ducked just time.

Sansa sailed right over his head and then crouched, spinning around.

"Theon, wanna play with me? Would you like to fight me? I want to play rough, I hear you like to play rough with any girl willing. I am willing."

Looking at the bloodstained girl with glittering hungry eyes, Theon felt pity as well as fear for himself.

"Sansa...who did it to you? Who made you go all the way cannibal? Was it that stupid whore, Myranda?"

Another giggle and a playful twirl of Sansa's gore stained dress, the fabric splattered the forest ground lightly as she spun.

"Myranda made me free. A Wildling killed her before she could eat Ramsay Bolton. Pity. A Pity. She was my new real true friend. Now I am alone. Want to join me, Theon? It's only one small bite or scratch if you'd prefer. We would be bonded then. Pretty please with sugar on top? A little nibble, like a hickey, Theon? Please?"

Theon found himself nodding impulsively. With a choked, hushed voice, he spoke as he sat down heavily again a tree. For the first time since Theon was seven years old, he burst into tears.

They were embarrassing, bawling tears of a cranky infant way past his bedtime.

"Go ahead. Just do it. I can't go tell Ned that I let Jon get taken by Wilding girls. And I know Roose will get Ramsay back. Ramsay will somehow hear about my not saving him. He will hurt me for it...make me pay in terrible ways. I am sick of living in fear of him, of his father. Maybe it will make me forget them. Do you fear things still, Sansa?"

Sansa crawled towards Theon in a way that was both sensuous and predatory. Theon shivered, this was nothing like the sweet girl he has known. He pulled up his knees and kept his hands on his chest as if a scared child.

"Don't kill me, don't eat me, just remake me. Promise me, Sansa."

Nodding, wiping drool off her chin, Sansa tried to be reassuring.

"I need a friend, a partner. I will force myself not to take more than one bite, I promise."

"Wait, can you just, just take it from my wound? Lick it or a tiny bite, maybe?"

Sansa paused as if considering. She inched closer and sniffed at the wound.

"Yes, that works. Yes, the wound, already so bloody and tender."

As Theon moved his hands away and the cannibal darted for the ruined hole of flesh, he acted. Quickly, Theon grabbed Sansa's head in both his hands and dashed it against the tree hard.

He let her limp form fall next to him and checked for a pulse. Breathing fast with new adrenaline, Theon left the steady pulse and took off his belt. Wrapping it tightly around the wrists, he kept watch to make sure Sansa still was out cold.

Ripping off his shirt, Theon stuffed it into the girl's mouth then he leaned back against the tree. All he could do now was wait. For help or for Sansa to wake up. If she awakens, Theon will have to try and force her home in spite of his injury.

Hearing crashing coming towards him a bit later gave him hope. Until he heard the Wildling voices. Fast, Theon shoved himself and Sansa into the underbrush in a small ravine.

It made him go cold to hear the voices going by. Harsh with laughter and hoarse from battle cries, the words floated above him as they all went by.

"Look at the lil Stark bitch still trying to bite through her bindings. Your teeth aren't sharp enough for thick rope, girlie. Don't worry, your parents will pay to get you home safe and sound. What a good haul, I must say for myself. A Stark girl, two for the slaver and a funny little dwarf to sell to one of those wandering troupes. I bet they'd pay good coin to add a real dwarf to those circus acts. I'll bring you up to the fair in a few weeks time and at least two of those groups will be there. Ah, yes, a good day after all."

Theon knew it must be Arya and he also knew there wasn't a damned thing he could do to help her. He never felt less helpless, except perhaps for when he was with Ramsay. 

Fear and memories combined with blood loss and Theon's eyes closed. He never saw Sansa's eyes open. Or her pull her tied hands up to yank the shirt out of her mouth. Even when her tongue pushed into the wound. 

Only after the sharp pain of teeth, did Theon's eyes fly open. He shoved Sansa away but it was too late. Sansa simply lay back down and waited. When Theon was ready he would undo the rope.

"You infected me. Oh fuck...fuck. They will send me to Qyburn! They will send me to live with the Boltons or kill me! I can't! I can't! Ramsay will own me then! You destroyed me, fuck you! Fuck you, Sansa! You have fucking destroyed me!"

"No, I saved you. You'll see. Just give it time and you will see how free you are now. Ramsay scares you? Let's hunt him down and rip his throat out. You can eat all of him, I'll just watch. Don't cry, Theon. It is going to feel good soon. You'll see. I can wait. When you are ready though, I heard them say about my sister. She needs us, needs me. I can free her, then FREE her."

Theon shuddered at the high pitched giggle and then he felt a small grin curve his mouth. And his blood raged. With a small whine, he scrabbled for the belt, undoing it and releasing Sansa.

Sansa gave a small biting kiss to Theon's cheek and he decided the feeling of his blood running down his cheek was nice. He tied his shirt around his wound with a belt. Then the two began to track the Wildlings and their hostages.


	19. Failing Flesh

Ned kept wanting to walk out then come back home again. As if he does it enough times things will right themselves. The smoke will be gone, his children will be here to greet him.

The sight of Bran so cold and still. Rickon raging, just screaming and Kyra kept having to take weapons away from him. Robb had to watched as he also wanted immediate revenge.

Ned would sedate both boys but their doctor was dead, killed by a Wildling and he wasn't the only one. Half their people were dead, the rest injured or traumatized.

Perhaps Ned has kept his little estate too protected or maybe Roose was too hard on the Wildlings, he had no understanding of why this has happened.

Two different injured scouts witnessed Arya beaten down and taken by three of them.

Cat had recognized Rattleshirt and it had taken four men to keep her from chasing after him. She wouldn't let Ned touch her in comfort, she spoke in an icy tone.

"Sansa ran away with Myranda so Jon and Theon went to find her. None of them have returned. Now I have also lost Bran and Arya. I failed my children. I failed us."

By the time Roose showed back up, bloodstained and as angry as Ned has ever seen him, he was already in full battle mode.

"I do have bad news for you, Ned. Along with Ramsay, it seems the Wildlings kidnapped your son Jon for ransom. I do not intend to wait for their offers and taunts. Worse news and something you might not wish your wife to hear. Myranda had given Sansa drugs at the bar and she turned cannibal. She is the cause of the riot and our sudden influx of flesh eaters. I have several witnesses, including Alyn, one of Ramsay's closest friends. He is the only survivor to have seen what occurred inside of the bar. Sansa is missing, Ned. So is Theon Greyjoy. He was last seen shot down in the street by a Wildling that helped kidnap your son."

 

Cersei shivered in the chilly night air and sipped her wine, walking determinedly. She swore that she stepped in shit along the way and cursed Cat for wandering in horse fields. Even though Cat was looking up at the moon, she still let out a bitter laugh.

"Do you know even when you are wearing sneakers that you walk like you are wearing ten inch heels? Has it been that long for you?"

"I'll have you know that I wear sneakers every day. For jogging, Pilates and yoga, during training to keep fit. I wear heels whenever I can otherwise. What's wrong with liking something? I haven't brought any heels with me this time. No, this trip I have just brought a few weapons and a burning in my heart. Where is yours? Why are we out here in the dark while the men discuss the bigger shit in the lit, warm house? I am so sorry that your little boy is dead. I really am, Cat. But your daughters are alive and they need you. That raging child inside needs to see that someone is doing something to save his family! To avenge his brother and save his siblings. You have no time to grieve. I never did either. But we simply don't have that luxury."

Cat spun around and her fists clenched as she screamed in bitter self hatred.

"I failed! I had one fucking job and I blew it! It's a cosmic punishment, I know it is. For what I did...for what I let happen to those two boys maybe. My son was inside and nowhere near the fight and he was still killed! I didn't even know Sansa had left...I didn't lock up Arya, I let her be part of the battle."

"You failed? So what. I failed too. Let's keep failing and maybe we can finally get something right. We need to get your children, get my child. We need to destroy your Wildlings and then go destroy the filth in the South. We can put things to rights, Cat."

"You don't give a fuck about me or my family. Stop acting like you do."

"And you don't give a fuck about me or my family. But we give a fuck about our own families, we give a fuck about keeping our lands that we spent our lives sacrificing for. We promised each other, Cat. And others made that promise too. It's time to make everyone stick to that promise. Now, can we go inside to join the men or should we discuss recipes?"

Nodding, Cat started to walk back towards the house with Cersei. She stole the glass of wine from the elegant hand and gulped it all down.

"Had I known you wanted some, I'd have brought the bottle. Oh, you should know I did eavesdrop on some of the conversation in the house. Your daughter Sansa was given Targaryen drugs by some girl named Myranda. It turned her infection into full cannibalism. She caused the sudden outbreak and she is now missing. And so is that Theon boy. Oh, least important bit was that Jon was taken hostage along with Roose's son."

Cersei suppressed a wild laugh at the look on Cat's face.

"Now others will see you as the mother of a monster just like me. You'll get used to the stares and disgust. If we can find Sansa and Joff, maybe Qyburn can still help them. Then everyone will see we were right to protect them the way we did."

Cat bit her tongue against the slurs she longed to cast at her age old nemesis. They needed each other and that was that.

"Let's go make sure the men do more than bluster and make plans without clear heads."

 

"Can you fucking believe this fucking shit? All this way to chase after the cannibals, to lust after the damned fight. To get so close and this, this was the right fucking tribe where the little prince fuck would be. Just to get called off. Why the fuck should I care what happened to Ramsay or the fucking Starks? Time enough to chase after Wildings after but nooo...why let us finish a fucking job?"

Brienne and Jaime froze in their sleeping bags, staring at each other, nose to nose. They knew that voice well. So well. It was that fucking Goat and his men and they were on the road just a few feet from them.

Jaime saw the look in his friend's eye and shook his head frantically. She burns for revenge and this would never happen again. Chances are this might be her one chance to run across them. At least in a place where she could kill them.

He whispered to her, his hand covering her own over her gun.

"No. We don't know how many are with him but it sounds like at least five men. We don't have enough cover or firepower to kill them all. We can follow them, track them and deal with them later. I mean, it's not like we are heading South right away, right? Surely during the war that's coming, we can sort of wander off and kill the Goat. We will get revenge, I swear it. Just not this minute."

Nodding, Brienne quietly got up and began to pack up her things, Jaime following her lead. They listened to the deadly group fade away and they got moving. Then Brienne stopped dead to whisper to Jaime.

"They said they had tracked a cannibal tribe, that they were sure had your nephew. How close would we be to that tribe right now?"

"I am not going to attempt a rescue alone against a cannibal tribe. We aren't that crazy, right? So let's keep moving in the direction that Locke just went. I don't feel like being anyone's meal and don't think Joff wouldn't eat me as easily as you."

Brienne suppressed a grin as they began to head onto the road. An arrow flew past her and landed in the tree next to her head.

"Fuck!"

Jaime and Brienne had meant to roll their bikes for a bit so that the men wouldn't hear them. However, the arrow might not have only been a warning. Gunning their bikes, they flew down the road and too soon saw the company on horse. Jaime counted six of them.

Now all turned to face the noisy travelers.

"Well, we can try to convince them that we are all on the same side now. Try and demand an escort to the Starks."

"You heard them. They don't care about the Starks, they certainly won't care about us. And I won't be their entertainment again, Jaime. You know what will happen if we stop and speak with them. So let's just keep going. Right. Through. Them."

 

The look on the faces of the Goat and his men were a balm, a soothing one for both of them.

Brienne and Jaime shot as many as they could and plowed their bikes into the rest like bowling pins.

Except usually when bowling occurs there is less bloodshed and death. 

The repulsive Goat managed to shoot Jaime twice before Breinne's bike flipped him like a rag doll. The large woman had broken bones and half her face had been dragged along the ground. 

She dragged herself over to the moaning lead rapist, who's body was quite the twisted pretzel. With a crazy screech, she pulled out her dagger with three broken fingers and slowly dragged it across his throat. Then as the man choked upon his blood, she stabbed him in the groin.

Only after Goat was dead, did Brienne take back her dagger and crawl to find Jaime. Only two other men were still alive and both were wounded too far for fighting. They were trying to help each other into the woods and she let them go.

"Jaime? Jaime?"

Dragging her broken leg and arm, Brienne was nearly in tears. Then she saw her handsome, arrogant best friend. He was bleeding from his head but was breathing. His road burns were extensive but his bones seemed intact.

Patting his face and calling his name did not make Jaime wake up but he did groan.

She breathed a sigh of relief and then lay next him to rest before trying to fix their injuries.

Screams from the woods where the two men fled made Brienne sit up fast.

No time, she needed Jaime up and moving now. She dragged herself to her feet and tried to coax one of the horses that hadn't wandered or ran off yet. A rustling in the brush made Brienne move faster and she grabbed the bridle.

Just as an arrow landed in the horse's neck and it fell over, pulverizing her already broken leg. Brienne screamed and clutched her dagger tightly. It was helpless and hopeless though and she knew it.

Watching the grinning cannibals appear from the trees, Brienne did what she could.

"Listen, please! If you are with the boy Joff, this is his uncle. Tell Joff that you have Jaime, don't just kill and eat him!"

With that, Brienne used all her strength to slice her throat as deeply as she could. She was going to be eaten, but she was damned if she was going to die because of it.


	20. A Dragon Needs Fire

Dany's hair brushed against her thighs, the thick braids within the tangled locks lightly snapping against her skin. Her back arched all the way back and she breathed deeply.

Her meditation was broken a moment later by a knock at the door.

"Yes, what?"

Jorah leaned into the doorway and squinted in the intense candlelight.

"Sorry to bother your meditations but your brother needs you. And he is screaming and possibly murdering his slaves. Gregor sent you two a package and Viserys isn't taking well to it."

Growling softly, Dany stood up and gestured impatiently at Jorah. He was hers, her bodyguard, best friend and confidant. The fact that Jorah loves her doesn't matter, it only made him more devoted.

Once Dany had told him if he were a little younger and wasn't also slave trading for her brother on the side, she might have married him. It was a joke of course but it held a grain of truth.

Jorah handed Dany her long red and black summer dress to throw over her body suit. She slipped on her sandals and followed Jorah up two flights of stairs.

Before the double doors of Viserys's suite in the old amusement park hotel opened, Dany could already hear the chaos. It made her blink to see her brother kicking decapitated heads around the room. That was new.

The rage and tantrum were not so new. Nor was the sight of Viserys's latest slave girl curled up in a corner bloody and sobbing. Two of his best men sported bruised faces and there was a dead collared boy still holding a serving tray.

"My brother, my love, I am here. Please tell me why you are kicking heads around your room. Your carpet will be stained if the injured and dead aren't removed, Vis."

With a quick jerk of her head, Dany had Jorah escort the beaten girl away and the men began to silently remove the corpse. Dany looked at the large box and then ducked as another head flew past her.

"THAT FUCKER! FUCKING MOUNTAIN! LOOK, DANY! LOOK! CUT OFF THEIR FUCKING HEADS AND THREW THEM IN A BOX TO SEND ME! THREE OF OUR BEST DEALERS! AND TWO OF MY BEST MEN SENT TO GUARD THEM! THE MOUNTAIN THINKS HE IS INVINCIBLE? THINKS HE WILL JUST TAKE OVER?  I WANT THOSE ELDERLY FUCKS WHO GAVE HIM POWER! I WANT TO HAVE THEM TURNED TO FUCKING ASH, I WANT THE SOUTHERN CITIES TURNED TO FUCKING ASH. I WANT GREGOR AND HIS MEN ALIVE THOUGH. I WANT TO KILL THEM PERSONALLY!"

A head with dreadlocks and a frozen scream upon its lips smashed hard into the graffiti smeared wall, leaving a gory mess behind. Viserys began to pace, his chest heaving.

He only wore jeans, the black and red dragon tattoo on his chest seemed to flex it's wings and glare at Dany. How many times as Dany been under her own brother watching that dragon move?

Whether in fear and pain while Viserys administered a beating or in carefully groomed lust, it was too many times to count. Luckily, Viserys rarely sought his sister out for sex anymore. Only when he was between toys or has had too much to drink.

However, the beatings happened whenever he was enraged and she was in his way.

Carefully, Dany stayed out of his range and spoke very softly, sweetly.

"Of course the Mountain is no match for you, for us. We shall make them all pay. Everyone here and for miles around will fight for you. And you bought all those fighters for this exact reason. This is what you have trained them for. We can send them in to slaughter the council, they can sneak in. Teach the South not to mess with you, with us."

Another head flew as Viserys ran and kicked it. Slamming into Dany's stomach, he smirked when it made her gag and grab her stomach. Her clothing was smeared in gore.

"Dear sister, this isn't just a matter of sneaking in and killing old folks. Or of sending our own to be half murdered by the Mountain. And it isn't just a lesson this time. I don't want a little revenge, sweet Dany. No, I want the South brought back to my hand. To the Targaryen hand where it belongs. We will not just slaughter, we will conquer. And we have the connections to help us really get things heated up. I have arranged a meeting. They will help us not just to keep the truce between us going, but I am sure they would like a little revenge as well." 

Dany shuddered and gave a weak protest.

"Viserys, they are too dangerous and can't be trusted."

"Sweet little sister, a dragon needs fire."

 

Dany stood tall next to her brother inside the large meeting hall in the open air market. The sight of all those red haz mat suits as the cult marched always bothered the hell out of her. They all stood silent and still just outside of the gates while their leaders entered.

Stannis and his priestess were the only two without haz mat gear. The greying man wore a red tie with a gray business suit that clashed strangely with the priestess next him. Her long crimson velvet cloak covered her so well her hair blended in making her look creepily bald in the candle light.

Viserys invited them to sit down and leaned forward.

"It is time for the Dragons and the Fires to truly and finally purify the South. Time for us to all join together and purge the Southern land of the Council and the Mountain."


	21. Bitches Be Crazy

Huge bonfires and drunken cheers both blinded and deafened Ramsay when the bag was ripped off his head. He had been thrown to the ground and he struggled dizzily to his feet.

Ramsay looked at the long standing handmade tents and wooden homes. He looked up at the intricate rope bridges and the tree-houses. There were male and female scouts with guns trained on him.

Explains why they untied him and left him unattended. Straightening his back and his chin, Ramsay gave an arrogant smirk towards Mance.

"You know my father won't take this insult lightly. However, I will admit life was getting boring and I could use a small vacation. Thank you for welcoming me into your little...camp."

Mance was handed a large mug by Tormund and he gestured towards Ramsay.

"Give one to our lil guest. Looks a bit peaked."

Ramsay took the drink from the large man and pretended not to be nervous of the Wildlings all coming closer in a tightening circle. He took a large swallow then nearly choked to death.

He bristled to hear everyone laughing.

"Don' worry, boy. It's not poison, just moonshine. Sorry we don' have fancy drinks here. Milk, maybe? The babies can spare it."

Ramsay was burning red from both the drink and embarrassment but forced himself upright.

"I prefer beer. Not whatever prison toilet brew recipe you recalled from the past."

Tormund and Mance both chuckled but the rest fumed and Ramsay's smirk returned.

"Now Ramsay, I wanna ask a question. Cannibals, boy? We 'ave a right to know if cannibals are near, don' we?"

Ramsay gave his most polite and innocent look. But his eyes showed the somber truth he wished to show.

"There have been infected here all along. My father and I were sworn to silence by the Starks. Their daughter Sansa was infected by Joff Lannister of the South. Sansa came to the Strip with Myranda and took some Targaryen drug. Next thing I knew there was a fucking cannibal feed at the bar. Up until now the Starks and Lannisters managed to keep the infected kids calm. But both are running through the North now, infecting who knows how many. I think you have a bigger problem than just dealing with my father. We all have to deal with the Wildlings. And maybe, the Starks."

Sneering, Mance spit upon the ground while Tormund began to bitch about knowing the high and mighty Starks would fuck up enough one day.

"Fucking Starks. Should 'ave known. Thank you for the information, Ramsay. Now, you 'ave some time to waste til Daddy saves you. A few of my ladies would like a word."

 

Ramsay tried to recall every hunt, every scream, every rape, every death. It worked for awhile but it wasn't enough. It wasn't the beat down from the ladies that was bothering him. He kept control of his raging blood and pain was just a challenge to overcome.

It was the humiliation and degradation that they were pulling out of him that was the hard part to ignore. He crawled in the mud as the belt around his neck dragged him. These trashy bitches dared to call him names, to spit on him and make him bleed with sticks.

They ripped his clothing nearly off and threatened to violate him. Mance warned the girls they couldn't go that far but he and the men were all jeering. Everyone was enjoying the humbling of a Bolton.

He has killed and tortured many a Wilding. And one of Ramsay's favorite pastimes is indeed to hunt Wildling females. Letting his dogs take them down and then he flays them living, while raping them.

All may be fair in war but the Wildling bitches weren't seeing it that way apparently. It wasn't like Ramsay could deny it and he was helpless to stop it. Whenever Ramsay tried to attack back, they ruthlessly would kick him down.

One female pulled up her dress and pissed on Ramsay as he squirmed, holding his broken ribs.

"Kill you, I'll fucking kill you, cunt."

His muttering only made them laugh louder. Two other girls announced they had to pee and he started to try and crawl away. Digging deeper into his mind, Ramsay went back to his real safe place. The one comfort that is dark and good.

Theon Greyjoy. Reek. Ramsay's one true creation, his art project, his little pet to be. An arrogant little fucker that Ramsay has spent years breaking down into a new personality.

He had resented that first visit when Cat Stark sent the unwanted Jon and Theon to his home. Jon was Ramsay's first target since his damned father had so much interest in him. With good reason that made Ramsay sick to his stomach.

But Ramsay couldn't do much more than bully Jon. Not without receiving his father's wrath. Theon was a different matter entirely. Roose didn't care how Theon was treated as long as he was always intact and damages could be explained away.

Ramsay took out his anger over Jon on Theon. His friends helped. Damon, Skinner and Alyn mainly enjoyed bullying and beating the boy down. Theon was so fucking arrogant, no matter that he was nothing, no one really.

In spite of being nothing and unwanted by his own people, Theon had a confident, overconfident smile upon his smug face. It was like a red flag in front of a bull for Ramsay and his boys.

That first time that the boys stayed at the Dreadfort, Ramsay and his friends had great fun humiliating and torturing Theon Greyjoy. They tricked him with games, challenges and dares.

When Theon figured out how dangerously rigged the games were, he tried to stop playing. Ramsay pulled out Theon's toenails, three of them. Skinner took a tiny piece of flesh from Theon's calf. Damon used his whip to force Theon to dance for them all.

Ramsay made Theon eat dried and frozen dog shit. He loved seeing the pretty boy crying and shaking at his feet.

For some reason Ramsay kept those toenails in a little box. Through time he added Theon's back wisdom teeth, more toe nails, some finger nails and an inch long piece of skin. Oh, and one part of Theon's left pinky.

Each time Theon was sent, Ramsay beat him down faster, harder. He began to force Theon to call himself Reek. Flaying, hunting him with dogs and Ramsay's own domination won. By the last visit, Theon was thinner, shaking and terrified to displease Ramsay.

But then Theon would leave and hide Reek deep inside himself somewhere. Ramsay wants to pull Reek out of that arrogant fucker and keep him. His father...his father said when he got Jon, Ramsay could keep Theon.

This could be the beginning of it. If the Wildlings and Boltons both were attacking the Starks, Ramsay could keep his pet. So Ramsay kept his Reek in his mind, comforting himself. The sound of that little scared whine, calling him Master and seeing how much Theon despised it.

When the women finally seemed to bore of tormenting Ramsay, it was to turn their attention to another. Ramsay looked up, wiping blood and piss out of his eyes. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he saw Jon thrown forward.


	22. Making Devils Out of Demons

Reek rolled in the damp earth, he sniffed deeply and licked drooling lips in hunger. Theon kept his eyes and ears sharp for the prey ahead.

Instinct told them to wait, to bide their time. Let the prey get out of their panic mode, let them calm and slow down. It is dark hour and the Wildlings are on full alert. So Sansa and Theon slowed.

That is when Theon discovered to his extreme annoyance that he wasn't alone in his head.

Here was another fucking crime to lay at Ramsay's fucking door. The asshole did such a good job mind fucking him, that even as a cannibal, Reek stayed in his damned infected brain.

Sansa thought it was funny and giggled as Theon fought himself like a crazed animal. Reek rolled and Theon careened himself into trees, as if to knock the other out of the shared body.

"Stop laughing at me! It isn't funny. Reek won't leave, he won't fucking leave me alone! Just like fucking Ramsay, if there is Reek in my head, then there is Ramsay! You lied! I am still not free of that fucking bastard!"

Sansa stared wide eyed as Theon's red rage filled face switched to a panicked almost child like look. He clenched his fingers together tightly and hunched his shoulders. In a whispered hush, the large eyed Reek confided to Sansa.

"He means Master. He shouldn't ever say those insults. Master would hurt us...he won't like this. He won't like us being a cannibal."

"Wow. How many of you are in there? Did it drive you crazy? Huh? I don't care. I don't feel very sane anymore either. But there is still only one of me."

Theon swatted angrily at Sansa as she leaned closer as if to peer into Theon's mouth.

"Get away! Ramsay, that fucker, he made Reek...when I stayed there...never mind! What matters is two of us in one head is not okay! I don't want Reek using my body for anything! I don't want him to ever live in me! And I don't know how to make him leave! I will have fear as long as I have Reek! And that means even if I never see Ramsay again, I will never be done with him! I will always be afraid, be waiting for him because Reek is!"

Tilting her head, Sansa studied the tormented man and circled him, sniffing, considering.

"Maybe if we bled or ate him out of you?"

With a threatening snarl, Theon shook his head and tracked Sansa carefully with his eyes.

"No, you just want an excuse to eat me. I am hungry too, we can wait until we reach our prey. If we attack each other, it lowers our chances of survival. Everyone wants to kill a cannibal on sight, Sansa. We have to stick together and learn some patience." 

Sansa huffed.

"Says the wise man who spent the last ten minutes wrestling trees and the ground while screaming at himself to get out."

"Fuck you."

Instead of recoiling with insult as Theon expected, Sansa grinned and shrugged.

"Okay. I never have. Seems silly to save myself for that special guy now, doesn't it? Later, after we eat, let's fuck."

Reek fled as Theon's body reacted to the words and he leered at Sansa's body as she danced in front of him hypnotically.

"Well, that made the pathetic worm squirm away. That helps for now, yeah. Alright, after we eat and let's see if that makes Reek shrivel away completely."

Trying to stifle laughter, the two continued to follow the group ahead. Inching closer as the group headed into deeper woods.

 

Jeyne has never been so angry in her life as she was right now. She glared at Tyrion and hissed at him.

"You stupid man! Why did you do that? You made it worse!"

Her burning eyes landed on Arya next.

"I warned you! I warned you danger was coming! So you ran into it? Idiots!"

Hot Pie hushed his sister even as he shot Tyrion a dirty look.

"We can't always save you! We have to take care of each other. Of ourselves."

Tyrion and Arya were both red faced as their chains linking between them. Clearing his throat, Tyrion spoke his words quiet and clear.

"I was hoping to find a way to save you. To bargain for you. This savage moron is some redneck illiterate that has clearly missed current Northern fashion trends. Wearing animal skin and fur is certainly back in. Not the bones though, I don't really see the purpose in it. My point is...I forget now. Oh yes, Mance is the leader of the Wildlings. I will meet him and I am sure I can work something out. I am quite resourceful and rich in my own way. You don't seem in the least flattered that I wish to help you. You seem rather irritated. I am confused."

Shaking her head in such annoyance that hair flew and smacked Hot Pie in the face, Jeyne snarled.

"Did you see how easily we gave up? We take what chances we can. And now you mess it up. I can't bear chains very long, Tyrion. If we have to leave you and the girl...I will. We will. Sorry."

Arya finally looked up to see Jeyne using her mother's confiscated sewing needle to start picking the lock on her cuff. Hot Pie made sure her long hair and his own body hid her actions. The Wildlings were not watching their quietly arguing but obedient hostages.

The five of them were in a circle around their captives and keeping an eye as they moved deeper into the woods. Going back through the Strip would have been foolhardy. By now things were overtaken by the Bolton's men.

So they chose to go straight into the wilder areas of Stark land then over the line into Wilding territory. However it has not escaped their minds that some cannibals got loose. That they heard from others passing by earlier to head home with their bounty.

One girl told Rattleshirt that she had passed bodies in the woods that were clearly ravaged by cannibals. So the five men were at the ready, concentrating on getting home uneaten.

Arya was fascinated as Jeyne moved like magic to remove the cuffs. Hot Pie was using a silver needle of his own and Tyrion grinned as the cuffs came off.  Leaning forward towards the couple, Jeyne whispered.

"That's it. On your own. No more help. Run when we do, but go your own way. That is it. No more help. And zig zag when you run. That's it."

Hot Pie rolled his eyes at his rambling sister and gave a sharp nod to the other two. Arya and Tyrion tensed, expecting a sort of signal of when to run. Instead, they blinked as the ferals just...left.

It took them a moment and they each bolted, nearly colliding into each other. 

"What the fuck? Ey!"

 

Rattleshirt turned as one of the men yelled and watched the most inept escape attempt he has ever witnessed. Not one of the five of them had even really moved, they were just reacting to this performance of sorts.

They watched the dwarf and girl run at each other, swerve at the last second.

Tyrion tripped over his own damned cuff laying on the ground and found himself eating dirt. Arya moved fast but at the last second, she turned to look at the fallen dwarf. His cry made her turn and that was all that Rattleshirt needed.

She turned back and plowed straight into the bone chest plate. They all chuckled as the girl fell on her ass in the dirt not far from the dwarf, who was bemoaning the loss of a tooth.

"That was the most pathetic-"

He got no further than that before the strangest thing happened. Even topped the dwarf and girl's escape attempt.

When Rattleshirt saw the ferals disappear he knew better than to bother chasing them.

It was annoying to lose them but he couldn't risk a late night search with cannibals creeping around. Also, once a feral escapes, good luck getting it back. The humorous attempt of the girl and the dwarf and the girl being Arya Stark soothed the loss.

So it was with true confusion and shock that Rattleshirt watched the two ferals suddenly return with eager speed. They came from nowhere, from different directions. The boy leaped right into the circle of them and Jeyne ran up to Rattleshirt.

"Cannibals. Two of them. We have to use numbers, they are too close and new for us to evade."

 

Theon snarled at Sansa.

"I told you not to go so close. They are warned now."

With a wide grin, Sansa shrugged and bolted forward after whispering sweetly to Theon.

"Let's maim, kill and fuck. Keep a few alive for our new family. Our own tribe. Do not eat my sister."

Managing to snag a delicate ankle, Theon brought the redhead down and dragged her backwards.

"Shut up and stop it. There are too many of them and they have weapons. We can track them and see if one straggles off again. If you had just waited a few more minutes before going so close! That feral was heading towards us...we might have taken her down if you had any patience! You can't just rush at things and hope for the best!"

Sansa punched Theon in his wound and giggled as he cried out. She whimpered at the bruises and scrapes but still sat up crossing her legs demurely. Sighing, Sansa knew that Theon was right. She can't allow the blood lust to put them in danger.

Turning to reluctantly agree that they needed a better plan, Sansa saw something interesting happen.

Theon's face was crunched in pain and his whole self just seemed to shrink. Suddenly those huge eyes were back and Reek seemed to have taken over.

"Oh, are you that Reek fellow again? And what do YOU think of Theon rudely interrupting my fun?"  

"Master hunts. Not Reek. Not allowed. Reek is prey. But Theon hunts. He knows the risks."

"I really want my sister back, Reek. Tell fucking Theon that we are obligated to save family. We need to get Arya. I NEED HER!"

Cringing at the loud growl, Reek paled and his fingers ran across each other and his panting chest like spiders. Sansa felt confused, like she was seeing predator and prey in one person. Part of her wanted to hurt, scare, bite, eat this Reek.

But it was truly Theon and he was her first creation. And he was a hunter and strong, Sansa needed him. But this Reek...

"Oh, go away and give me Theon back. Why are you here anyway? You aren't useful at all so far."

"Reek takes bad things. Things that are weak or hurt are me. The rest is him. Sorry. I don't want to be. To be at all, anywhere. Sorry."

Sansa huffed and itched her back lazily upon a tree while Theon seemed to fill back into himself. He swore and whacked his own head softly onto the ground.

Bored, cold eyes watched as Theon clenched his eyes, scrunched his whole face and grab his head. The eyes rolled as the man groaned and Sansa spoke over the pitiful sound.

"I want to get Arya. We need her and any Wildling would be perfect to join us! Or the dwarf, oh wouldn't that be fun! The two ferals would be a real good catch too. Come on, help me plan. Maybe we can just aim to bite or scratch a few? We need more numbers, you said so!"

Theon watched dizzily as Sansa's face appeared upside down over his. Her grin was as wide and cold as the moon but joyful and carefree at the same time. What the hell has she become? 

Great, the infection made them cannibals. It also drove Sansa crazy and blasted Theon into two personalities.

Theon felt cheated. 

"Okay, we can follow them at a distance. I think they are taking the long way back to their camp. I have never been there. But maybe we can find a straggler or wait for a good distraction. They will all be blind drunk or drugged up at one of their fucking victory parties. Someone will wander off in the dark for a drunken piss and we grab them. Make a few more of us, then save your sister and the others if we can. Sound good?"

Sansa wrinkled her nose that she couldn't get her hands on her sister anytime soon. But she saw the sense in what Theon said and nodded. They set off again a few moments later, following the now very cautious group, that was moving faster now.

It seemed the runaways would rather stay with Wildlings rather than become cannibals. Silly of them, but Sansa was sure that they would see things her way soon enough.


	23. Joyful Malice and Good Speaking

Ramsay was covered in piss, blood and dirt. He was bruised and might have some broken fingers, toes and ribs. A tooth was lost and he could barely open his left eye. And he was never so happy in his life possibly, until just now.

In fact, this was a sight Ramsay would treasure for the rest of his life. Laying against a tree where he was tossed, Ramsay grinned with blood dripping down his lips. His eyes were lit like a small child seeing a circus or a magic trick for the very first time.

The Wildlings were having a fine time tormenting Jon.

Mance sat on his makeshift throne, half rusted steel and half wood. His hairy buddy Tormund was roaring with laughter while slapping his buddy-king on the shoulder.

Unlike when Ramsay had to suffer Jon's presence in his home or at the Strip, these Wildling girls were not falling all over Jon for his beauty. Or rather, they were but not in the usual way.

"Ain't you the most delicate pretty thing, boy?"

"Is that a boy or man? Or a girl trying to be a man?"

"I canna' tell, but is pretty."

"Didn't he know how to use his weapon, ladies? Or did you kidnap him to teach him to use his sword better?"

"Thrust and parry!"

The women groped Jon, pulled at his hair and even slapped him as if he were a prized steer. Jon's face was priceless and Ramsay tried hard not to laugh loudly. He managed to keep it to a mere chuckle or two.

Ygritte and Osha spoke over everyone, telling a humorous tale of how Jon and Theon underestimated them. Ramsay found the story amusing until he heard Theon's name. He frowned. Would Theon rally others to come save them?

He wasn't sure if he was upset over it or not. Ramsay didn't want Theon in the position of being the hero, the savior, it's all the asshole has ever wanted. It might erase or weaken his hold on Reek. On the other hand, what if Theon ran away? If Reek was gone?

No, control. That was a trigger thought and he erases it. Concentrate on the joy of Jon's downfall and notice how some men are also circling Jon now. Jon was trying to get away from the groping, hurting hands and the increasingly savage leers.

Ramsay hoped they would gang rape Jon, oh, he would give anything to see that. What sweet joy and it was enough for him to focus back in the present calmly.

 

Mance waited until the boy was in a fine panic before raising one hand to stop the abuse. Jon's hair was as wild as any proper feral boy, long and snarled, half snatched out. Scratches, bruises and he has lost his shirt, his jeans half off his body.

Eyes dilated and his bloody chest heaving, Jon was thrown forward as he still tried to swing at them all. He fell over himself and landed at Tormund's feet. The giant man laughed and pulled the slender man to his feet.

"We won't make you bow, asshole. Not Mance's style. Lucky for you because the sight of you kneeling like that, it would make half our group's night. It would be a sight. Now stand straight and answer some questions unless you'd rather the attention you were getting."

Jon tried to regain his composure, pulling away from Tormund to face Mance, his chin up as high as Cat Stark herself. He quickly pulled up his pants but the zipper was destroyed, the button gone. Fists clenched his jeans tightly and he stood as tall as he could.

"Now then, Jon, is it? The littlest Bolton I stole says yer family is to blame for the cannibal outbreak. That true? Best not to lie to me."

"The infection came from the Lannisters from the South."

"Don't give a fuck about any Lannister. Don't give a fuck about South. The Starks, boy. The Boltons, the Strip, the North, it's what I care about. Did a Stark get infected? Don't make us torture you, boy."

"Yes. We had exactly one person infected on Stark land. Sansa got infected by Joff when he came to visit. Qyburn from the Boltons had been helping us with her. She had not turned cannibal at all. She was under control, Qyburn found a method to keep the infection low in her. But then Ramsay's whore took her to the Strip. She turned Sansa somehow into the cannibalism."

Tormund glared angrily and the bushy bearded face seemed to turn into a snarl.

"Fucking Starks! I say we take a page from those fucking haz mat freaks and burn the fucking Stark land down with all of them on it! Then slaughter the Boltons just as a message for those who harbor the infected!"

A cheer went up and Mance leaned forward to squint at Jon as if trying to figure out what kind of bug he was.

"Is that what we should do, boy? Huh? Burn all the sickness out? What do you think of it?"

Jon stared at Mance and Ramsay found himself sitting straighter. His fingers that weren't broken curled into the dirt and he bit his swollen lip. No matter how they feel about each other, if Jon is killed, Ramsay will die next.

"It no longer matters. Stark, Bolton or Wildling doesn't matter anymore. Sansa got away and she wasn't the only one. I personally saw other cannibals flee into the woods. And they are only going to make more and form a bigger tribe. We all have to band together now to stop them. None of our groups alone can be sure of stopping them completely. You should ransom myself and Ramsay then form a pact with everyone. A truce that lasts until all the cannibals are driven out of our area again. There is another tribe, Cersei Lannister ran into them. Styr is back and this time he might have a very vicious golden southern boy to mentor. Two tribes, Mance, what if they unite? And we don't? Then it doesn't matter if you attack the Starks or not, everyone of us will be dead or infected soon enough."

Mance seemed to pause for a second and share a heated intense glance with Tormund. His best friend and second in command had lost his woman to Styr's tribe. They ate her and turned two of her friends. Mance had never seen Tormund so devastated, it took years for it to heal.

Tormund was the true driving force that drove that tribe away. Styr sometimes would come close but never dared to do more than taunt from a distance. The Boltons had enough sadistic drivers that kept chasing the bastards out of the Northern borders which helped.

 

"Throw delicate Jon and little Ram Ram into the pit while we 'ave a nice chat."

 

Ramsay and Jon managed to not break any bones when thrown down the small pit, landing on rotted mattresses. Both moaned at the new bruising then flurried as if they knew karate. The Wildlings above were waiting for this part and it never failed to amuse them.

The roaches, spiders, snakes and mice that lived within the mattresses all revolted at the sudden squashing of their homes. It was a toss up as to which was disgusting Ramsay and Jon more.

The biting, scurrying creatures all over and around them, or being squashed into each other. Jon and Ramsay both cried out, trying to rid their bodies of critters and the opposite man.

It was too small to truly escape each other's personal space but a good amount of the creatures either settled down or moved elsewhere. That helped to calm the young men down.

Satisfied with the display, the Wildlings all turned their attentions back to the concerns of Mance and Tormund. 

 

Jon was curled into a ball, glaring at the sky. Ramsay was sitting against the packed earth with his knees in his chest, chin resting upon his knees. Their feet touched and they both resisted pushing and breaking the others toes.

Both kept silent as they got their composure back and put their masks back in place. Ramsay was also staring up at the circle of stars in the sky way above them. He cleared his throat and took a calming breath.

"Well, that was amusing, wasn't it? Very different experiences for us tonight, right? I mean, you were almost raped. If Mance hadn't had to ask you about the cannibal outbreak, he would have let them have you. You would have been a Wildling fuck toy if it weren't for me. I told Mance that Sansa started this fucking mess. If I hadn't told him that, Mance might've just let them have you, guys and girls. Maybe keep you as a whore or a mascot? At least you added value to this as well as entertainment. You talk really well and I think they are considering your words. As much as those redneck motherfuckers can, at least. So that's great. You will be a hero, if it works. Won't that be so damned tooting special for you? The least you can do is thank me for my few words that saved you from being gang-banged."

Jon curled his lip in disgust and glared at Ramsay. The words were so sarcastically sweet it hurt to hear and Ramsay's eyes bored deep into Jon's.

"So...you want me to thank you for making the Wildlings want to burn the Starks down and then torture the rest of the North? I am pretty sure you didn't tell them that just to save my life, Ramsay."

Ramsay smiled with playful malice and his eyes twinkled with good humor. It hurt Jon's head to watch Ramsay's emotions and acting, it confused him to try and tell the difference in it.

"True. Very true. I told them so they wouldn't let the girls continue to beat on me and piss on me. Yes, the reason your nose is wrinkling in disgust is Wildling female piss. Nice ladies, huh? So I told him about the start of this cannibal outbreak. You just confirmed it, you could have lied, right? Not my fault you chose the high road. We both told the truth, really. You know our fathers aren't going to ransom us, right? They are going to go to war over this insult, just watch. The old fuckers will have their honor all bruised up and let's face it. We are expendable. So we cannot count on anything else but this deal going through. We must work together, no matter how much I wish you were gang raped. Or dead. It no longer matters, as you said. The cannibals must be stopped and our houses must combine. But if that goes sour, if they call for war, you and I are on our own. We will need a second plan if we get fucked."

"How can I trust you?"

"Can you afford not to?"

Jon sighed and leaned his head against the earth.

"You are right, I guess. We don't have any other choice. Funny, to have to rely on the one person whom I hate the most."

"I know. I feel the exact same way about you, Jon."

For one brief second, their eyes met and they both laughed. Their bodies relaxed slightly and they had what might be the most interesting exchange of their lives.

"You know, I hated you for the way you treated me. You were so sadistic and hateful towards me, Ramsay. I wasn't given a chance by you. I learned to hate you by your own actions. Why did you hate me? You hated me from the second you saw me, Ramsay. Why? I mean, you might as well tell me. We might die today."

Ramsay struggled with his control and Jon watched in fascination as the man's features almost seemed to change. It almost looked bestial for a moment then it calmed.

"I'm sorry, Jon. It's sort of a sensitive subject for me. Tell you what, if they announce they are going to kill us, I'll tell you. Sound good? Now...what way do you think they will kill us? If this fails and the families go to war against them? Let's see...my death will be pretty bad. Those wild cunts will hunt me like a deer through the woods and rip me to shreds. And you...I wonder if there is a way to fuck a man to death? Or will they keep you as their prize Stark whore?"

Jon paled with rage and clenched his fists.

"Why? Why do you always have to be such a fucking asshole? Even now, when we need to stick together just to survive, you still have to act that way? I mean, does nothing fucking ever matter to you? Is this all a fucking joke to you? Are you crazy or suicidal? I mean, what the living fuck is wrong with you? Why can't you put aside your unreasoning hatred of me just to save ourselves?"

Ramsay thought about ripping Jon's throat out with his teeth. He could do that so easily, long before any Wildling could stop him. Eat and eat and FUCKING CONTROL IT!!!! 

Thump.

His head started to ache and Ramsay wondered how long without leeches and that crazy fuck Qyburn's pills it would be before he turned. No, he can't think that way. His father's voice whispered through his head like a cold unwelcome wind.

_"You need to let out some of the poison. If it grows, you can only suppress it for so long. Find a way to release the anger, the rot, the sickness."_

 

 

Ramsay couldn't exactly bleed himself and actually he was already losing blood. So he released it the only other way he could and shattered Jon's world.

"Fine. You truly want to know the truth of why I despise your very existence?  Did Ned ever tell you about your mother? Has he told you any of the truth yet? He never even told Cat, that was sort of part of the deal, I think. Are you sure you want to know? It's not a nice story. But those ignorant fucks up there will be grunting and jawing for a while. Lots of consonants and syllables for them to work through."

Jon was torn between rage and the need to know the answer to a lifelong question. At the same time, Ramsay was a liar and he searched Ramsay's eyes for the truth.

"Please, stop messing with me. Do you really know anything about my mother?"

"Did you hear something from your father?  I have asked him so many times and Roose always said he would someday tell me. But he never did and my father wouldn't talk of it at all."

"Do you know something and why does it make you hate me?"

"Who is my mother? Is she your enemy? Is she alive?"

Each question from Jon came out after small spaces of time and were tinged with desperation. Ramsay smirked and waited until Jon looked like he might attempt to strangle him.

"Your mother is dead. She suffered a terrible fate sadly. You see, war does strange things to men. They get....savage. My dearest daddy raped your mommy and forgot she existed. Until she tracked him down nine months later. She showed him your plump little face and told him that she needed money. My father is not big on surprise problems or embarrassing complications. Roose planned to kill her and  you. Your father took pity as always and intervened. He told daddy that he understood the complications. After all, my step monster already had to deal with accepting me into the family and she did not take well to it. How could father bring home another child to her? So Ned took you and gave the woman money to run away with. My father sent Locke to take care of her after Ned took you home as his new bastard son. And all Ned asked for in return from my father was a lifetime of servitude under an impressive title and some land."

"No. NO, I don't believe you! Liar."

Jon grabbed his head and closed his eyes tightly. All those years with Roose acting so strange towards him. Cold spider hands that kept touching him, eyes trying to bore so deeply into him. That soft whisper in his ear, swirling in his head.

How Roose seemed to want to somehow tutor, train, teach him. As if he were his own son.

"My father had a change of heart too late. When you came to visit, his interest in another son rekindled in his stone withered little heart. It sickened me. Do you know how hard it was for me with my father's first born golden boy, Domeric? I like being an only son, Jon. As you know father is difficult at best...but he is my father. You don't need him, you have Ned. It's not fair, Jon. You cannot have them both. Every time you came back, all he saw was you. He wants to have you in our happy little family again. I have no say, I must accept it and you. But at least I'll get my Reek out of the deal. Even if Theon tries to run away, I'll find him. Reek will always come back to me."

Jon stared at Ramsay and wondered how his world could go so upside down so fast.


	24. Procreation

Sansa looked up at the sky and saw the tendrils of light creeping in and stealing away the stars. It made her feel a little sad, she was having such fun in the night. How could she bear for it to end?

She spun wildly while Theon drank from the river. He stood up and Sansa slammed against him.

"Fuck me. We need to let them feel safe, we have time to do nothing. Show me what I have missed, Theon. Kyra talked about you to the other girls. I heard them. Show me what you showed Kyra that made her blush and whisper about it."

Reek fled and Theon smirked. He found himself growling softly and he gently pulled Sansa to the ground.

"Are you sure, really sure, Sansa? I mean...I will try to be careful but...I don't feel the same anymore...I might...hurt you."

Giggling, Sansa squirmed under him, against the growing hardness in Theon's jeans.

"I don't think it matters anymore if you hurt me. I think I might even like it. Don't make love to me, Theon. We are like...animals, beasts. Fuck me like a monster, Theon."

Instantly, an image of Ramsay over him brought Reek forth, shaking his head fast. Theon snarled and the weakling fled.

"Okay. Like animals or beasts. But tell me if I go too far or really hurt you, Sansa."

 

Red pulsing need swept away any pretense of gentle learning and neither of them seemed to care. Grunting, panting, howling, biting, scratching, Theon brought himself and Sansa to orgasm.

They licked the blood from each others wounds as their sweat dried and they calmed down.

 

Rickon felt very brave, strong, smart and resolved. It took a long time for him to manage an escape from home. Finally, Kyra fell asleep and Rickon climbed out his window. Scaling was hard, but once he tiptoed his way across the molding and reached the large tree it was easy.

He climbed down the tree easily. The kids have known their own secret ways to get in and out of the Stark lands. Each sibling has spent time daring each other to find new ways to leave.

A flashlight, a backpack with food and water bottles. Rickon found out where Kyra hid her weapons and stole them. Well, not all of them, in case she truly needed them. So he only took the hand gun and one blade. Leaving her the rifle and her smaller knife.

Moving fast, Rickon swept his flashlight through the woods as he carefully moved forward into the deeper forests. He knows as much as most do about where the Wildlings live. They live just beyond the combined lands of Bolton and Stark.

If he is lucky, Rickon will catch up with some Wildlings before they return to their home. Maybe he can save his sister at least. Movement further ahead made Rickon freeze and listen carefully.

A person appeared out of the woods up ahead and Rickon crouched, holding his gun at the ready.

"Who is it? Who are you? Answer me or I will shoot you!"

"It's me, Ross. Rickon, why are you out so late? Don't you know it is very dangerous in these woods? With Wildlings and cannibals running about?"

Sighing, Rickon lowered both the gun and the flashlight, allowing the disheveled redhead to come closer. Ross sometimes helped clean and do projects for his mother. Sometimes she even babysat him.

"I won't let you take me back, Ross. I need to get revenge for Bran! I need to save my sisters and Jon!"

Ross smiled and bent down over the small determined boy.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Rickon. I am not going to make you go back home like a good boy would. No, I can see that wild bit in you. You need to be free...like me. I am free now and I promise to help you. I just have one favor to ask back."

Rickon was thrilled to have an older person on his side but he felt uneasy. It was now registering to him that something was different, off, about Ross. There was dried blood all over her, her outfit was ragged and her eyes were too intense.

"What favor?"

"One bite."

Before Rickon could answer, Ross was on him.

 

Kyra woke and found Rickon gone. She left a note and hurried to grab her rifle and head out after the boy. He was going into the woods, he was going to kill the Wildlings that murdered Bran. He yelled it, cried it enough times.

She felt the guilt land on her. One boy died in her care, Arya was kidnapped and who knows what happened to Theon? Racing into the woods, it took Kyra until she started to see light in the sky before she found the boy.

Rickon was with Ross which filled Kyra with a sense of true relief. When she ran to hug Rickon and Ross, she noticed too late the difference in them. A few moments later that included some snarling, screeching and lovely warm crimson blood, Kyra was different too.

 

Theon and Sansa began to track after their prey but sensed something. They stopped and then Sansa pulled at Theon.

"Other way, just for a second. Something...is there. Please?"

Nodding, the two of them swiftly slipped into the shadows towards some form of need or sense that compelled them.

They met up with Ross, Rickon and Kyra moments later. 

 

The Wildlings and their hostages all moved as quickly and carefully as they could towards Wildling territory.  They were mostly quiet with harsh, nearly whispered orders when needed.

Tyrion felt pulled like taffy and his legs burned as he tried to move faster than his endurance could handle. Arya and the ferals helped lift him over things he could climb and yanked him over dead-falls.

A man broke off from the group.

"Gotta piss. Do some scouting too. Think we might have lost them."

Rattleshirt nodded and then shoved at Arya to make them all keep going. Tyrion groaned and sat down heavily.

"Let them eat me. I cannot keep this up without a small break. Look at the size of my lovely legs, do they look built for extreme escapes? Give me two minutes, Rattleshirt. Just two, please. Or go on and I'll just catch up. Eventually. Or I'll get eaten. Either way. Two minutes."

Due to the cannibal threat, Rattleshirt let them all remain unfettered. None of them wished to be alone while cannibals roamed around. He had no worry of them trying to run away. And in such a situation, it's best if everyone fought if need be.

However, he wanted none of these fools to assume they were his equal, that they were somehow actually freed. So he puffed up then bent down over the dwarf. His gold teeth glittered haphazardly between the rotted ones set jaggedly in his smiling mouth.

"Little man, I should just leave you here as a little snack for them. Give us that two minute extra escape time from them. Get. The. Fuck. Up. Or I will tie you to a tree and let them have you."

Arya pulled Tyrion to his feet and hissed quietly at him.

"Come on. I can help you. Get up."

Rattleshirt stabbed a finger into Arya's chest hard.

"Keep him moving or he gets tied to a tree. And you'll always know you caused the pitiful dwarf's death. Yeah? Fucking move!"

Arya gave the man the dirtiest look she has ever given and forced Tyrion forward. Hot Pie and Jeyne offered to take turns helping get their friend through the difficult travel. Tyrion grumbled but gratefully did accept all the help.

 

They came to a small river bank and stopped long enough for everyone to wash their faces. The scout has not returned to them but they have heard nothing unusual in a while. Perhaps the cannibals did move on and they fully expected the man to return with that exact message.

Until the man's head, still attached to a gory bit of neck muscle and bone came flying to land with a splat in front of Rattleshirt.

"Oh. Oh fuck us."

Tyrion's words were quite calm in spite of the head. Jeyne, Arya and Hot Pie stood frozen, heads tilted as if trying to understand a complicated question asked of them. Rattleshirt's men instantly began to point their weapons around.

The problem was, the head came from nowhere, no one saw a direction. Rattleshirt snarled and let a burst from his rifle, turning to spray in an arc into the trees. No one cried out, nothing moved.

After he stopped, then they heard something. Giggling. A high pitched girl's giggle and the carefree laughter of a mischievous boy.

"Great. They want to play with their supper first."

Jeyne, Hot Pie and Arya gave nervous laughter but the Wildlings did not appreciate Tyrion's humor. Rattleshirt kicked the little man into the dirt and snarled at him to shut his mouth.

 

"It doesn't have to be a bloodbath! We want to make a big happy family, you could join us! Well, some of you, not all of you. We DO need to eat."

The offer was made in a high pitched sweet teenage girl voice but there was a barely restrained edge, a hunger to it that made all shudder.

Except for Arya who took a few shocked steps forward towards the voice until Rattleshirt got in her way.

"What the living fuck are you doing? Where do you think you are fucking going, girlie?"

"That voice! It's my sister! It's Sansa! And that boy laughing! That is Rickon! My brother! They can't be cannibals, do the cannibals have them hostage?"

Tyrion rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders, then gently tried to tug on Arya's hand.

"Dear girl, if your sister and brother are with cannibals, then they are cannibals themselves. Or they would have been eaten by now. Cannibals don't hold prisoners, Arya. You know this. You know it's true. I'm sorry but you need to face those facts rather quickly."

"Arya? Is that you, sister? Come join us, we are here to collect you, to have you be with us! A new family with less rules and no gloomy parents!"

Arya jerked at the sound of Rickon's voice and the others pulled into a closer circle that buried her in the middle. One of the men grumbled that they should offer Arya to them in exchange for free passage.

"No! I need to bring something of real value back and that girl is a Stark. We keep going and don't play their fucking games. If any of them get close enough to see, you bring them down. Let's go."

 

Rattleshirt forced them all to keep moving. Tyrion looked up and dared to attempt to interact with the great boned moron one more time.

"So bringing a daughter of Ned Stark is considered a big boon to Mance? It gives you better status? Can I ask how Mance will feel when you also explain that you brought a group of cannibals straight to his doorstep? Does that bring you any favors? That is if we get that far."

Rattleshirt snarled and whacked Tyrion's head hard enough to knock him into Arya. He told the dwarf to shut up or he will rip out his tongue but the little man had a point.

He changed their direction and they went up the river banks towards an old rickety looking bridge half hidden by winding branches and moss. Softly, Rattleshirt spoke to his men and though Tyrion strained to hear, he couldn't make out their words.

 

Arya had tears in her eyes and the look on her face was awful. Hot Pie and Jeyne were each holding one of the girl's arms, propelling her forward. Leaving Tyrion to stumble on his own and try to eavesdrop on the Wildlings.

"I'm sorry, Arya. It's sad when you lose people you love. Well, they are still alive at least. So there is that."

Jeyne gave Hot Pie a look and he shrugged.

"What? I am giving her comfort."

Arya pulled away and muttered that she wished to walk by herself. She watched as the ferals went back to assisting Tyrion. It wasn't that her world has crumbled. It wasn't that she was captured or that she may never see her home again.

All those things were truly awful, yes but this was what truly shattered something inside of Arya's mind. Her young impressionable mind that is tough but has never been tested. She has never killed anyone before tonight.

Arya has never had to deal with real war or battle. And though her sister was infected, it was never a huge deal. She was just Sansa, a little ditzier maybe, but still just plain old Sansa.

Now her sister was a cannibal. And her little annoying brother that stole, spit and spied but she loved him anyway.

Rickon and Sansa are cannibals. That was hard enough to register.

But worse was knowing what had to be done. Sansa and Rickon have turned into full blown cannibals. And there is no cure for that but one. They must be killed. And Arya knew that if she didn't kill them, they would turn or kill her.

The dead Wildlings Arya had dancing in her head that she murdered earlier turned into images of her siblings. Arya felt her tears sting her eyes and linked them back hard.

She remembered her mother at one late summer night party telling old war stories with the other older folks.

_"Back then you had no choice. You had to kill or be killed. It took strength to look at someone you knew and take their life. You sort of had to look at their eyes and then it was easier. Because you could see in their eyes that whoever they were was already gone."_

With her mother's words echoing in her head, Arya dried her eyes with a dirty fist and sniffed deeply. There was nothing for it, she would have to kill her own siblings.


	25. The Most Devoted Of All

Qyburn was in a great state of agitation. Oh yes, his hands, curse this damned arthritis! His hands shook slightly and he almost dropped the damned test tubes. This wouldn't do at all. No. He must calm himself immediately.

Taking a very deep breath, Qyburn plunged the needle into a vein and watched his blood swirl up into the tube. It was lovely and it would taste divine but he just couldn't dare to indulge.

They would be coming for him soon. Of course, parents always blame the doctor when things go wrong with their children. As if he should somehow hover over them constantly to make sure every word he uttered has been followed?

He was more than a damned doctor, he was a scientist. If Qyburn had time to visit those sad excuses for Universities now, he would probably teach most of the classes, not learn anything.

A paper degree meant nothing here, not anymore. At least not yet and if this outbreak isn't contained, the schools that exist now might even fall. What makes Qyburn a scientist isn't his degrees or any great schooling in an ivy covered institution, no, it was passionate hands on training.

 

_Even before Qyburn had lost his title of doctor and nearly his freedom, he knew that he was meant for great things someday. No matter that his wife and children had deserted him. No matter that bored, angry parents picketed his home._

_The judge called him a monster, the media had barely begun on him so they only came up with headlines of gory, flashy words that meant nothing to him. None of them could understand his purpose, his genius._

_Those women should have been grateful not dramatic and vindictive over their children's care. The only thing he really did wrong was hold back a little information from the parents. And maybe do a little extra work upon the kids._

_On occasion Qyburn might have given children medication not yet approved because it was his own personal creation. Or take a little dissection time while doing some surgeries. When it was needed for research, Qyburn did sometimes extend an illness slightly to learn more of it._

_Twice he might have injected a child with a new illness to study it but he mostly cured them of it afterwards. His lawyer said if any of the kids had died or had any true deformities that he could have been looking at never leaving prison._

_As it was, he lost his license, his family, home and was getting ready to serve ten years behind bars when the virus hit. After the initial horror of it all, Qyburn knew. This was it, this was going to be his purpose, to cure this horrible virus._

_He had a group of terrified and confused folks that he had protect and provide for him. Convincing them that he was the key to salvation, they helped him create a lab in some old shabby apartment building._

_Qyburn was safe there for months and then one day while he was working there was chaos outside the door. He had a gun but when the door burst open, there were more than just a few._

_He had seven bullets and each found a cannibal to drop. Qyburn was a very good shot but when he ran out of bullets there was onecannibal left. It was one of the kids. A five year old that was dragged around by his paranoid mother._

_The little boy giggled as he rushed at Qyburn. The doctor managed to beat the boy to death with the gun but it took time. And the boy managed two bites that would require stitches._

_Swearing, Qyburn had staggered away from the dead child and ran to his equipment. He tried to keep from panicking, from giving in to whatever was rushing through his system._

_Stabbing himself with the largest gauge needle he could find, he filled three tubes with his infected blood. He clumsily pulled together as much of his items as he could carry._

_Careful examination and releases of blood along with medication of his own design seemed to help Qyburn keep the bestial urges down. And by the time Qyburn had met Roose Bolton and the others in the groups, he knew._

_He knew what his special destiny was. He would "cure" the world of this virus, of cannibals. He would be remembered forever as the doctor who single handedly created a way for a new people. For infected to remain human and continue with a good life._

_Qyburn was a messiah but no one ever saw it that way._

 

The small greying man was calmly crushing some herbs when his small greenhouse suddenly became crowded. Roose, Ned, Cat and Cersei took up as much space as half the glasshouse.

"Forgive me, I was working."

"Our children have turned cannibal. Joff and Sansa. How did they change so fast? Can you reverse it when we get them back?"

Qyburn looked at Cat and he ignored the blaze in Cersei's eyes. That one was not going to like any answer he gave.

"I gave specific instructions on how to keep the infection down. If Sansa took a drug, it would set it off. If Joff was not being proper, following all the rules then he was easy to set off. I did not have them with me to monitor them. I truly wish I did have them. And not an outbreak that might cause tragic results for them both."

Qyburn folded his hands and gave a gentle smile that wasn't reassuring to anyone.

"If either of them or any cannibal can be caught and brought to me, I can try several things that might work. But I cannot say for sure if I can reverse it or not. Not without a subject to work upon."

Roose stepped forward.

"The virus isn't acting like it did before. Sansa turned half a bar. Some of those people were from Stark land and some that lived at the Strip. Healthy folks don't turn that fast or they didn't before. And no one gets sick and dies, just turns. Can you explain that?"

"Yes. It has been years since any of us has seen someone die of it. We developed a partial immunity to the virus. In response the virus changed itself. No one dies, they change. It took twenty years but the virus has found a new way to try and wipe us out. Let's hope we can catch ourselves a cannibal so I can start to work. This might be the most important thing, Roose. I need a subject. I am fairly confident in my skills and research. Bring me a cannibal and I will give you a way to defeat this latest outbreak." 


	26. Ain't Nothing Gonna Break My Stride

The now smaller group headed onto the bridge with Rattleshirt first, the captives then the other two Wildlings.

"Listen idiots, over this bridge and straight up that hill, down the other side is a small shelter of ours. It is hidden at the face of that cave you can just make out. See it, little man? Good. We get in there we have a radio and more weaponry. So let's put some actual fire in our steps, yeah?"

Tyrion bit his tongue to keep his mouth shut as he glared at Rattleshirt. He had nothing witty to respond with anyway, only a tired curse and some swears. It would bring nothing but a kick and that wouldn't help them move any faster.

The water lazily moved in the river below bringing a calming sort of sound to them. Things went well until they got maybe halfway over the bridge.

That is when one of the Wildlings behind Tyrion thoughtlessly took a bullet in his head and rudely fell upon the little man.

 

Reek wanted to rip Theon's hair out of his head in frustrated panic while Theon cursed the stupidity of his new family.

It wasn't fair that he was the only one that had real hunting, tracking and fighting experience.

Each of the girls and Rickon knew basics of survival yes, but only in light practice. But even that wasn't really the issue. It was impulse control. What made Theon the most irritated was knowing that he was as crazy as the others now.

Yet he could keep himself from stupid decisions by two things it seemed. His previous experience with how to track and attack others and Reek constantly forcing Theon from following any real thoughts of impulse.

Reek did not take chances, not ever and his voice, his personality if need be will be overwhelming until Theon relents from any dangerous, thoughtless impulse.

The others all seemed to have a lovely time just being crazy and relying only upon instinct and impulse. Theon has to lead it seems, except none of them are truly accepting his authority.

With Reek lurking about, ready to pop up and be taunted by the others, Theon could command no true respect.

Theon and the others watched as the prey began to head over the bridge and Theon grabbed the one gun they had.

"I have come on trips this far with Ned, Roose and Robb, to track Wildlings. Over that hill is a shelter they can hide in. I bet they have a radio to get reinforcements! I'll see how many I take out with the gun before we charge the rest. Gives them a chance to empty out their guns at the trees. Stay hidden until I say so."

He aimed and shot one of the Wildlings at the back of the little party. That is when his own little party went as fucking stupid as roaming pack of drunken clowns. Ross popped up and started to charge towards the bridge with Kyra not far behind her.

The only reason that Sansa wasn't along with them was because he tripped her into the river. Theon had to chase Rickon and land on top of him, hoping he didn't kill the little idiot.

Ross spun like a ballet dancer, so graceful when the bullets from other Wildlings went through her. Her left foot had actually touched the wood of the bridge before she landed down. Kyra wailed once then stomped her foot and yelled at the running prey.

"That was really very mean! She was a really good dance partner! You are very rude!"

Rattleshirt blew Kyra's head off in response to her words. He kept the cannibals pinned down until the captives were off the bridge.

Theon shot the other Wildling but the captives were crawling, nearly off the other side of the bridge now. 

Keeping their eyes upon Arya, who was helping the dwarf up the hill, the ferals flying way past them, the very wet Sansa and the slightly squashed Rickon headed for the bridge. Theon followed, keeping his eye on Rattleshirt, who backed up the hill keeping his eye upon Theon.

 

Arya had found herself strangely giggling as she had rolled the Wildling off Tyrion. The small man was splayed out like a bug that had been stepped on and he kept muttering that he was dead.

"Well, you are pretty loud for a dead man. Get on your hands and knees and crawl! Come on, fast as you can. Rattleshirt can't hold them off by himself forever! We need to get over that hill, I'll shove you if I have to the whole way! Move!"

Tyrion groaned and tears filled his eyes as he began to crawl. He felt as if bones had been ground to jelly and internal organs were a free flowing juice sloshing about. He mentioned this to Arya but she simply grinned and her eyes glittered.

"You find my pain amusing or being nearly eaten or shot by your own siblings amusing?"

"Both. All, it's all insane, it just seems so silly. If I don't laugh, I might do something not so good. I need the humor, Tyrion. So keep complaining and crawling."

Tyrion shook his head but pulled himself off the bridge just as Rattleshirt's boot tried to plant itself into his ass.

"Hurry up, they're coming! Up and over the hill! Go! Stay low!"

"I hate that man. I hate him more than I hate my father and sister combined. And that is truly saying something. I want the cannibals to catch and eat him. I want to watch. If they catch us, it is going to be my last request. To be eaten AFTER that repulsive caveman skeleton wanna be. I bet they will make him into one hell of a nice real skeleton."

Arya grinned and giggled as she shoved the grumpy, sore dwarf up the hill.

"Where are Jeyne and Hot Pie?"

Shrugging, Arya grunted as she was trying to help get Tyrion to the very top of the now very steep hill. She could just see over and down the slightly milder grassy slope that ended at a cave. There was no one there.

"They ran up the hill first and I don't see them now. Well, they are ferals, Tyrion. You know they don't stick around if there is real danger. Ferals just aren't like that. Maybe you'll run across them again sometime. Once we get the hell out of this."

Rattleshirt ran up behind them and without a word he gave a Arya a kick that sent her rolling down the hill. Tyrion decided not to wait for the now way too familiar boot and threw himself. He hoped that he would survive this, he really wanted to see Rattleshirt eaten by cannibals.

Tyrion landed upon several rocks but none big enough to break any bones, just scrapes and bruises. He came to a leaping halt on top of something both hard and soft. Arya began to mutter that she was dead over and over.

"I think you are a terrible young girl to taunt an older distinguished man this way."

He rolled off her and matched her grin. It was starting to look as absurdly funny as Arya thought. This is it, I have gone mad right along with a teenager. Wonderful. Madness is a lot more active and fun than I had though it would be.

Rattleshirt yanked them both to their feet and shook his head at their stupid grinning. He dragged them to the cave. Rattleshirt nearly tore the wooden door apart it opened so easily. All of them peeked inside silently for a moment.

Rattleshirt had also assumed the ferals went on their instincts and have taken off. So it was a bit of a shock to see the ferals arguing with a scout on the radio.

Hot Pie turned to Rattleshirt and babbled with impatience.

"Stupid Wildling won't talk to ferals or believe us! He just said he was going to come and kill us! Accused us of stealing the radio! And there is nothing here but this radio! No weapons, no medical kit, no food, nothing!"

With a snarl, Rattleshirt ran over to rip the mike from Jeyne's hand and he glared at the old fashioned ham radio.

"This is Rattleshirt! I am under attack by cannibals! They killed my party, I have taken Arya Stark hostage, two feral and a dwarf tagged along. Two ferals, yeah, what the fuck do you care! Did you hear me, the west bridge shelter is dry and I am out of fucking options! If I die and Arya Stark dies, Mance will get the blame! WIldling will be to blame for the death of a Stark!"

Tyrion looked about the small, quite dusty little shack, empty boxes and shelves.

"This area hasn't been guarded in a long time. No need to since they haven't seen cannibals in this area for years. That's what all the tree houses and little cave shacks were made for. I bet most of them are empty. I don't think anyone will come to save us in time. We are on our own and someone needs to tell Rattleshirt that. We are out of time and need some new options quickly."

Arya began to search around.

"Everyone find something that can be a weapon, hurry! Maybe we can break the small table and use the legs?"

Swearing, Rattleshirt abandoned the radio.

"Help will never get here in time so-"

He tilted his head and watched the strange chaos in front of him.

"Why are you breaking the table? Fucking morons. What is wrong with all of you?"

"We need weapons! Have any extra knives? Jeyne and I can use them!"

"If I head into a fight with this group of misfits, we'll die or be turned for sure. Fuck that. We are taking a different route and you really aren't going to like it. Well, probably won't bother the ferals at first. Then it'll bother everyone but the little smart-ass golden boy."

If that wasn't daunting enough of a warning, they watched as Rattleshirt quickly took off his fearsome but cumbersome costume. Luckily, he had on a light short sleeved shirt and jeans underneath it.

Then he moved a shelving unit and opened a small door. It led into a tiny cavern that they could all barely fit in. A small secret panel let them into a smaller area that had a hole in the rock floor.

"Nope. No, I can't do that."

Tyrion was trying to back away but Arya held firmly to his shoulders.

"I'll go down just under you and you will do just fine. You can do it. You have to, Tyrion, we don't have any other choice. Do you want them to eat you?"

Arya went first into the small hole and got a firm hold upon a metal ladder. Rattleshirt forced the terrified man onto the ladder, then Hot Pie went. With a sigh, Jeyne peered down to hear Tyrion's panting and his shaky voice telling Arya he can't possibly make it.

Jeyne swung herself down and at first Rattleshirt had expected to see her body plunge past into the darkness. No, she was on the other side of the narrow ladder. She used the outside of the bars to skid easily down to Tyrion and grabbed his fists as he recoiled at being nose to nose with the feral.

"I know the bars are too long for you, my legs can be the next rung down for you. I can be a ladder. And if your hands slip, I will grab you." 

Rattleshirt took care to shut the panels and then he began to climb down.  When they reached the bottom, it was a tunnel just large enough for them to walk single file and crouched over. Soon the tunnel became small enough that only Tyrion could stay upright.

Then they were all crawling, slithering towards a mild light that grew brighter and the sound of water.

 

"This is your own faults! I blame this on you! They got away, they escaped and Kyra and Ross died for your stupid impulses! If they had listened to me. If you two had listened to me, they would be alive and we would have Arya and more by now!"

Rickon pouted and in a moment of tantrum, he broke the ham radio. Sighing, Sansa slid a hand up Theon's chest and tried to look contrite.

"I'm sorry, Theon. You are right. We should have listened to you and we didn't. Kyra and Ross will be missed and we are all going to be hungry now. Still...are you sure you have no idea where they might have slipped away to? I mean, the cave goes somewhere, doesn't it? If they found a way through it that we can't see...where would they come out? You know this area, right?"

Reek tried to warn Theon that this voice is an awful lot like the kind Ramsay would use to pump information but Theon shut it down hard.

"Fine, yeah. I think I have an idea of where they might go. We will have to do some climbing and we still might not get there in time...or might go the wrong way. Oh well, I suppose it's worth a try. If they aren't found by daylight, we will have to find a hiding place. Wildlings, Starks and Boltons will be everywhere then. They will kill us on sight. If we are lucky, I might get time to hunt a rabbit for our breakfast before we find shelter."

Sansa allowed Theon to continue his grumpy musings while she coaxed Rickon out of his tantrum. They began to climb over the cave and follow Theon towards a cheerily running river. Rickon moved much faster and easily than the older two.

Reek watched with some alarm how Rickon ran on the jagged rocks on all fours like a beast. The frozen snarl of some dark joy on the little face and he felt both both fear and pity for the little kid.

The small boy leaped over a ledge and Sansa yelled as she dashed to the edge. Just then a howl and Rickon yelled,

"I see them! I see them! Going to hunt them! Hurry and catch up!"

Theon swore and he went as fast as he could, hoping the stupid kid didn't get himself killed. Sansa struggled a bit but was managing to head downwards on the increasingly slippery rocks.

She could see Arya on the small beach below. A Wildling was dragging an old boat into the water with the help of the ferals. Tyrion grabbed her sister's hand and was pulling her towards the boat.

Letting out a very unladylike curse, Sansa renewed her efforts to reach the beach. Theon overtook her and Rickon was already touching sand. Sansa let out a whoop as Rickon ran like a rabid dog and jumped into the boat, jaw outstretched, aiming for Arya's neck.

Rattleshirt swung the paddle like a bat and Rickon barely was in the boat before he was in the water with a fearsome splash.

Theon fished Rickon out of the water while Sansa made it onto the beach. She pursed her lips in annoyance and watched their prey slowly gain their escape.

While Theon pumped the river out of Rickon's lungs, Sansa looked about for another boat. When Rickon was throwing up water, Sansa spoke, tapping Theon on the shoulder.

"We need a boat. There isn't one here. Or we need to know where they are going? They can't stay on a boat forever, they have no food or weapons. Otherwise, they wouldn't have used a paddle, they would have shot Rickon."

Theon nodded.

"Right, good, glad to see you are thinking clearly. Not with just impulse. Okay, let's track them. It's a narrow strip, they can only go so many ways for help."

Reek looked at the brightening sky and shivered. They had so little time left before they must hide to avoid death. But Sansa and Rickon don't see beyond the hunt. And Theon wanted to be their leader and be liked by them so much.

It made him reject Reek's concerns, to see his lifelong dream fulfilled. Theon didn't want to hear Reek tell him he wasn't really being a leader, that Sansa was leading him by stroking his ego and hunger.

So Reek silently kept an eye on the sky as the three began to climb up a different hillside path.

 

Arya watched as her sister and brother got smaller and smaller then they went around a bend. Rickon's aim was clear, he was after his sister, she is why they won't give up the chase. They want to have her join them. The others would probably be dinner.

Tyrion patted her hand.

"Don't worry. I know all about family troubles. My sister and father have wanted to either murder, change or eat me for years and they aren't even cannibals."

Hot Pie looked at Rattleshirt.

"Are we still heading into Wildling land?"

"No."

"But it's almost daylight! You can't risk going near the civilized North, the Boltons and Starks will be everywhere. Do you think you can maybe return Arya safely for a reward and safe passage? It might work."

Shaking his head, Rattleshirt growled at Hot Pie.

"We aren't going anywhere North, we are heading towards a trading post I have used before. Might as well sell you, your sister and the dwarf first. I'm going to need to get provisions, weapons and a horse in order to take a nice long journey back to the deep North with Arya. We will get to Mance, just a little later than I expected to."


	27. Cannot Deny Bloody Mirrors

Ramsay and Jon spent a very miserable eternity in the close space. By the time that they were finally hauled out, both were ready to offer up a free torture session just to get away from each other.

Jon had questions and Ramsay wanted to give no answers. His smirk made it clear he was enjoying every second of Jon's agony. So Jon tried sullen silence which then Ramsay suddenly had plenty to say.

He told Jon of the terrible things he'd been truly doing to Theon during those trips. Whenever Jon was with Roose, Ramsay used the time to molest, cut, brainwash and torture his best friend into a creature.

Jon knew enough of what Ramsay did for his own and saw the changes in Theon enough to know the repulsive bastard spoke the truth. Ramsay also gave detailed descriptions of what he may have done to make the Wildling women piss all over him.

None of this endeared Jon to his newfound brother. Jon's pious and revolted attitude only made Ramsay want to try harder to hurt his unwanted sibling. It kept him from feeling that thump in his head and if Ramsay must use Jon as a verbal punching bag to keep from eating him, so be it.

At least it was a much more enjoyable remedy than those fucking leeches.

"So...does this really change anything for you? I mean, do you really want to admit to Ned or Roose that you know the sickening truth of your birth? Rapist Daddy, I forgive you! Please take me home, even though on trips to your home, I would look so sad and scared, the servants thought I might piss myself? What will you say to Ned? If you had only told your wife the truth, she might have loved a rapists baby? Thanks for saving my life and raising me, Mr. Stark but I think I am OWED something? You weren't even OWED the truth about your mother. I told you simply for my own fucking amusement and because I am pissed. I don't give a fuck about you and you really don't want my father giving you actual fatherly attentions. Whatever you think it is like, it isn't."

"Shut the fuck up. Say another fucking word and I swear I'll hit you."

In a voice that was too deep, too hungry and made Jon look up, Ramsay responded.

"If you touch me in violence, if you make me bleed, I promise they won't be pulling two of us out later. That is not a threat. It's the truth."

Jon stared into the burning eyes, he saw how Ramsay's flesh seemed to almost shrink in upon itself until Ramsay was crafted bone marble. His teeth were pulled from his lips and the snarl was half joy and half hunger.

For a terrible second, Jon thought he was dead, then another worse second where he thought how much like a cannibal Ramsay looked. But that was crazy, Ramsay would have eaten him long ago. Hell, he would have eaten half of them or died trying.

"Did...you get bit or scratched, Ramsay?"

The laughter that exploded out of the man sent Jon nearly jumping up the slick wall. Ramsay seemed to relax, fill out and calm down.

"No Jon. Your sister Sansa didn't manage to hurt or turn me, Jon. Trust me, any beast within me has been with me way longer than your sister was infected. My father...he teaches me how to control myself. I do a very good job at it on my own now...but you test me, Jon. Push me too far, I might not be able to contain the beast in me."

Jon wanted to ask more about poor Sansa but Ramsay had deeply unsettled him. It brings back memories of how Roose would lay naked, in a tub of leeches. He would explain to Jon the importance of control, of how it can bring power.

All of it was meaningless analogies to Jon who was mainly discomforted being near the naked man with the terrible eyes. He did recall that Roose did mention a beast inside of him, that his son had the same beast.

None of it ever made sense and it still didn't. However, Jon knew it couldn't possibly mean cannibalism, the beast. No, he has been on hunts with Ned, Jory, Theon and Robb for cannibals. They have only ever caught and killed two that Jon remembers.

Both were bestial and didn't even speak beyond war cries and snarls. As awful as Dreadfort and those who reside in it are, none of them ever acted that way. All Jon knew was for a moment he was sure that Ramsay intended to murder him.

He kept his silence and tried to sleep. To Jon's relief, Ramsay stayed silent as well. The breathing suggested that Ramsay might be meditating to keep his calm.

Then Jon heard Ramsay mutter, "Reek" and Jon shuddered with disgust.

 

When they were raised out of the hole, they staggered like newborn moles in the bright sunlight.

"Come on...just squint, you'll get used to it. Ain't got all day, boys, it's rude to keep Mance waiting. He wants you two at his supper tonight."

 

Jon felt himself pulled away from the loathsome Ramsay and gratefully went. The gratefulness disappeared rapidly.

"Oh gods, pretty boy, you stink something awful! Can't have you putting our king off his dinner, can we? Time for a lovely warm bath, don't worry, we ladies will scrub you down nicely. Maybe even brush out your hair for you if you behave. If you act sweet, maybe we will give you some clothes later."

"If you bring that pretty thing to dinner without a stitch of clothing, you don't think that'll throw Mance off his dinner?"

In spite of the teasing and a few roaming hands, the ladies did just wash Jon and brush out his hair. To his extreme embarrassment they dressed him like a doll.

He felt strange wearing jeans that barely fit with rope as a belt and a too small tee shirt that he is sure he was given on purpose. Jon kept as silent as the grave while the girls worked on him.

They didn't seem to care if he spoke or not as long as he remained complaint.

Jon never felt sexually secure in his life.

Roose Bolton's blatant nakedness and awkward touching, the leeches he sometimes forced on Jon seemed to cause that. Being teased by all for being good looking didn't help.

This was the first time that Jon actually felt truly sexually assaulted, however. He wished being gay was a choice because Jon was feeling ready to never experience a female touch again in his life.

 

Ramsay was relieved that the vindictive cunts decided to take Jon off for a quick rape before a kingly meal. He even chuckled as the men shoved him forward. Like Jon, his gratefulness lasted only moments.

The men that were chosen to give Ramsay a bath and clothing just happened to be relatives or widows of some of his hunts. A few that were described to him were actually his father's. Saying that changed nothing but he did say it and loudly.

In spite of the ice cold river bath, which was more of a drowning. Regardless of the punches, kicks and tosses into the river, soap deliberately ground into his eyes, he spoke.

Ramsay kept his witty, acidic sweet voice as his shield against the pain and rage. Control, thump, control, control. When it took the rest of them to hold back a man who's daughter was one of Ramsay's hunts, he knew he won.

Or he thought so until they allowed the man to have a small knife.

"Only a tiny piece so the boy'll remember poor Tansay forever."

They held Ramsay down and muzzled him with a pair of shit stained underwear while the man carved his daughter's name deeply into Ramsay's left buttock.

The stinging blood trickling out got rid of Ramsay's headache and for a small time, his tongue.

 

Mance and Tormund sat at the long picnic table and waited. Ramsay and Jon were awkward and silent, wearing new clothing that didn't fit and Ramsay's hair was a snarled mess while Jon's locks flowed.

Mance chuckled and drank deeply before extending his hand to the bench on the other side of his table.

"Go ahead, boys. Have a seat. Having a cook-out. Just like I am sure yer families do, right? Well, Wildlings are families too. So have a seat and have a nice meal with my family."

Jon sat down but Ramsay hesitated, giving a charming look to Mance.

"I'll stand, thank you. We did so much sitting in the pit, my legs can use the stretching."

Tormund slowly leaned forward and glared at Ramsay.

"You will sit or I will break your legs so you have to sit. I think you know which I would prefer."

Ramsay cleared his throat and sat down. His face winced in pain as his injured buttock touched the hard wood and he heard the men laugh behind him. Fuckers. He hopes his father captures them for torture later.

The food was good even if the company and conversation weren't. Both Ramsay and Jon were quite hungry and did not allow enemy company to stop their appetite. Ramsay concentrated on eating as much of the rare cuts of meat while Jon was enjoying the fresh vegetables.

When the two finally ate their fill, Mance leaned back in his chair to speak. All around the large table, folks went quiet and those at other tables or wandering about did the same.

"Jon, what you said has merit. Things have happened that have me worried. It's gonna worry the Boltons and the Starks too. One my main men, Rattleshirt, he attacked Winterfell. He captured Arya Stark, two ferals and a dwarf for some fucked up reason. His party had some brave, good men in it. They never made it back, boys. They made it into Wildling Territory and were attacked by a group of cannibals. Scouts were sent, armed experienced hunters were sent. No trace of Rattleshirt or his captives. Dead cannibals and Wildings littered our western border bridge. We know that there are at least three cannibals still roaming and Rattleshirt and his captives are missing."

"I have sent a message to the Starks and Boltons. I am holding you both to ensure that they will come to a meeting and not attempt to assassinate me. If they try anything, you will be killed. A truce, a temporary one to get the fucking cannibals back out of the North. We shall try it your way, boy. But Jon, you'd better hope that your fathers are going to be reasonable and have the same ideas on truce, otherwise you and Ramsay will be fertilizer for my vegetable gardens soon."


	28. Swept Away While Sleeping

This was truly the longest and tensest boat ride that Rattleshirt has ever taken in his life.

He tried to clear the air right away as he held tightly to the oar with one hand and reached for his blade with his other.

"Let me be clear with you. I know what you are all thinking. Muttering to yourselves and staring at me like that. You are thinking that maybe since I am unarmed but for an oar and a blade, you can all take me at once. Maybe knock me off the boat and hopefully not take more than one of you with me? Huh? I understand, I do."

They stared hard with gimlet eyes and tense bodies as Rattleshirt forced an easy smirk onto his face. He leaned forward and his own eyes were cold but honest.

"Here is your reality. Even if you manage to kill me, what then? I am the only one with any weaponry or real fighting experience. Do any of you even know where you are? Have a map on you maybe? No? Then I am the only one who knows where we are and how to get anywhere."

Tyrion grumbled as he patted Arya's shoulder as if to calm the angry girl.

"And exactly where are we going, Rattleshirt?"

"Where we are headed, it is not the Northern rules, it is not the Southern rules. It is it's own little world, really. It's a silent yet bustling trading post. Whether it is human, animal, materials or weapons, you only go to trade or to buy. Now let's say you show up without me? So what happens when you land this boat there? Do you have money to pay for anything? No? Do you have anything to trade then?"

Rattleshirt gave Arya and almost pitying look at his voice was relentless.

"And yet, you cannot turn around and head home. Cannibals after you, no supplies, you are fucked then. Those siblings of yours really like you, Arya. They won't give up easily. They won't come into the trading post though. A tribe of cannibals is native to this area and they do not bother this area. They tried once and learned the hard way to stay the fuck out of main trading areas. Arya, the only way you are getting home is through me. If I sell these three."

Rattleshirt then gave a piercing glance at Tyrion.

"And as for you, dwarf, you knew it was coming and I let you go free. You insisted to be taken, now you have a change of heart? This late in the day? And why should a civilized girl and a rich little golden dwarf care so much about two ferals? They are ferals. They are not your friends. They stayed because ferals survive, its a talent. They don't care for anyone but each other. Idiots."

Hot Pie and Jeyne did not defend themselves but to sit straighter and silently snarl at the offensive man.

And yet there was truth to his words. At least about needing the Wildling, in spite of his intentions.

They huddled and muttered among themselves again. Surely there would be a way once they have gotten to a dock.

They can run, trip him, kill him if need be and run. Once in the trading area, they can at least form a plan while staying out of range of the cannibals. Yes. That is it. And with those reassurances from the other three, Arya took a short nap.

Tyrion and the ferals sat in a circle, looking at each other then at the sleeping girl. In her sleep, she did not look fierce and Ayra looked younger. 

"It is easy to forget she is just a child that is kidnapped from her family. And half that family wishes to turn her cannibal. The Wildlings want to hostage her...they are going to rip her apart like paper. And she hasn't shown any fear yet, she has done all she can to help us."

Jeyne nodded.

"The truth is different. The truth is the dock will have guards there. It is a port where humans sell other humans, they expect rebellion and attacks. Once we land, any defiance is over. We can try to overpower or run but they will overwhelm or kill us. I don't want Arya to see that. She has already seen too much. I like her."

The three looked at each other and silently made a decision.

 

Rattleshirt was startled mildly to find the three creeping closer and the intensity of their eyes was nearly painful.

"What is it now? Gonna try for your great escape on the water, morons? Shouldn't you wake the little brat to help you?"

They stopped moving only inches from him and sat, staring, as if judging him grimly. Rattleshirt squirmed slightly then put away his blade.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Hot Pie's voice was clear and quiet but full of some silent demand that pulled at the Wildling's head.

"We want a promise from you. We want you to swear on your very life that you will protect that girl."

Tyrion cleared his throat and leaned a tad closer while Jeyne put her head on Hot Pie's shoulder to calm him. The dwarf drew Rattleshirt's attention again when he spoke.

"Let me explain better. My friends are rather tense at the moment. With good reason, of course, so I shall speak for all three of us. We are willing to make a deal with you. We are willing to go to this post and allow ourselves to be sold. We will not run, fight or try to kill you or anyone at the dock. We will even offer up our skills, meager as they are so you can get a good sale from us. In return, you will swear, promise on your very wretched life that you will keep Arya Stark safe, protected and returned to her family. The non infected Starks, of course."

"I have to wonder if this is some stupid attempt at a trap. You, I can understand, your dramatics have carried you this far. But I can't believe the ferals care that much for a girl. She isn't feral, just a privileged, giggling brat that has an important name. But where we are going no one's name matters. Stark, Lannister, none of it matters. Last names do not exist here. So if this is some plot, where you hope to use compliance then convince the girl to run from me...."

"No, you hilly billy fucking moron of epic proportions! Would you pull just enough wax from your dirty ears to hear me out!"

Tyrion probably deserved that punch and luckily he fell into Hot Pie rather than backwards. It might have woken the girl.

"I apologize for my impulsive rudeness. I got a little too temperamental. We do not have time for me to explain to you that these ferals are humans and therefore capable of human affection for others. Regardless of that, do you swear to bring Arya Stark back to her family? To protect her from the cannibals and all others that would hurt her? Do you swear that to ransom her back home is truly your intention?"

Rattleshirt stared at the dwarf for a moment then spit into the water with disgust.

"Truly my intention? What do you think I am? Some child fucker? You have a very sick mind, you twisted demon monkey! Fine! Let us have this done with and I will hold you to it. I swear that I am going to protect and guide Arya Stark back North to ransom her home to her family. And in exchange, you three will surrender and make yourselves seem like something anyone would want to buy."

He had very poor hopes that two ferals and a dwarf were going to be a good sale at all. Rattleshirt knew they weren't worth much and he has rarely gone to this trading post with such a poor load before. Great, he was going to be mocked and shortchanged.

Rattleshirt pouted and glared briefly at the sleeping girl as his sore arm swept the oar through the rushing waters. That small smart ass had better be worth all this fucking trouble.

Tyrion leaned into Hot Pie and Jeyne.

"I really hope we have talents and skills to sell. Do we? Or can we fake it really well?"

 

Arya woke up to a way too large and too close man with amazing muscles and smooth dark brown skin lifting her from the boat. Before she could do more than holler and kick, she was dumped to the wet sand.

"A young rebel! I can get a good amount of money for the young girls."

"She isn't for sale, the other three are."

Rattleshirt indicated the dwarf and ferals helping Arya to her feet. The man wrinkled his nose and spit on the ground in disgust. 

"What kind of shit is this? You waste my time. Is it a prank? Never knew you for a prankster, Rattleshirt."

The Wildling gave a nasty, expectant look at the three and Arya tried to understand what was happening. Weren't they going to try and escape this or fight it? Instead the three looked back at Rattleshirt with some dreadful agreement.

Jeyne gave a flirtatious smile that Arya has never seen on her face as she stalked forward towards the large man. Just close enough to nearly be  within reach, she slowly reached backwards. Her head appeared between her legs and she winked at him.

Unfolding herself, Jeyne spoke, her voice a mix of both sex and rebellion,

"I am not as young as the girl, but I am not that much older. And I can do things that the little girls of the world can't even dream of yet. Are you sure there isn't an owner, a nice rich one you can find me?"

Hot Pie came forward and stood next to Jeyne.

"I might be a feral but I did train with a chef once. In payment for a deal, I was offered as a free worker to a hotel kitchen staff. I was there for a year and my cooking is excellent. My baked goods are enough to turn heads. Try me, find me a kitchen."

The man raised his eyebrow and looked over the two and then at Rattleshirt.

"I have never seen new slaves sell themselves so willingly before. This is the strangest sale as well as the most pitiful. I can of course sell the girl easily. If the boy cooks as well as he says he does, I can find someone who needs a good chef. What the fuck would I do with a dwarf? Go on, little man. Convince me why the hell I would want to take you, I am dying to see this whole thing out."

 Tyrion strolled forward with a winningly sarcastic smile and his arms swept out.

"Good Sir, you only have to look at me to see the talents! I am a dwarf, even running is funny when I do it! Look!"

Tyrion ran in place and then did a small dance. The man smirked and the slave wranglers he brought with him were laughing.

"I also can juggle, tell jokes, insult others while they thank me for it. I can also write, read and offer great advice!"

The man waved Tyrion's words away and looked over at Rattleshirt.

"Fine. There is an influx today, buyers that are seeking the different and unusual. I can probably sell him to a rich home full of bored, sadistic children. Or an entertainment troupe that caters to those same children."

Arya tried to protest as Rattleshirt and the slaver haggled over a price. Tyrion gave the girl a tiny shake then hugged her.

"We shall be fine. We choose this, we can find a way out of it. You, you need to get home safely. I see no other way but to have Rattleshirt buy what you need and get you home. He is loathsome, might hit you or ransom you...but he will keep you from the cannibals. He will take you home one way or another. He promised us. Now don't put up a fuss and embarrass us all. Hug us and say goodbye, dear. Go home where you belong. They will protect you."

The ferals hugged Arya and then the sound of coins in a bag seemed to set the slavers into gear. The three were grabbed and pulled away.

 

"You don't need to tie us up or throw us around, we are moving willingly."

Snorting at Tyrion's protest, the men shoved them harder but didn't bother to tie their hands. They were hauled upon a wooden stage and Tyrion sucked in his breath.

"I..I..right now? They are selling us right now, this very second? Wait, I thought we would have...time."

Jeyne whimpered and Hot Pie looked ready to vomit.

The man lauded the pitiful talents of the three in four languages while a motley group stared at them. Pirates, slavers, criminals, non descriptive men and woman that need cheap labor and some clear perverts.

"Sold! All three to the man in the back! Please see my friend behind the stage and you can collect your new slaves."

Reeling, Tyrion tried to ask what just happened but all three of them were bustled off the stage and into a dark holding pen.

"I...I think we were sold."

Hot Pie nodded at Jeyne's stunned whisper.

"At least...it was all together. There is always a way, a chance. Don't panic."

Tyrion started to chuckle and the ferals looked at him with some concern.

"I lied, you know. I really don't know how to juggle."

The ferals started at him some more then to started to laugh along with him.

 

Arya watched her friends get dragged away and turned to sneer at Rattleshirt.

"You will pay for doing that to them! I will find a way to get you back, hear me! I don't care how long it takes me, you will pay for that!"

Rattleshirt openly yawned at her threat and he pulled her along.

"Be as angry as you'd like, little brat. They chose it the whole way and you know that. They wanted to help make sure you get home all safe and sound. So strange, I've seen everything now. Ferals that like and trust a civilized girl enough to sacrifice themselves. Huh. You have made two feral friends. That wouldn't go over well in our North and you know that too. This is for the best. Now let's get some supper, then get our supplies and find a ride and guard to head home."

Arya glared at Rattleshirt as they sat down in an outdoor bar and ate old stew. As angry as Arya was with Rattleshirt and as concerned as she was for her friends, she was curious. Of where she was, this traders post. Of these different types of people she has never seen before.

Boiled leather on blue tattooed pirates and dark skinned large men wearing huge scimitars. Steel eyed women that have leather corsets and guns strapped to bare thighs. A female pirate wearing boiled leather and flipping knives with men twice her size.

Figures in cloaks that moved like shadows, crimson cloaks, black ones and some with embroidered pictures. Red dragons, krakens, mountains and some with symbols that Arya couldn't understand. Others in colorful robes and jewelry tinkling everywhere upon them.

"You come here all the time to sell slaves?"

"I come here at least once a month to sell whatever I have of value to someone. Doesn't matter what it is. Eat and shut up. Keep your eyes on your food. Stare the wrong way at the wrong person and I'll have to keep someone from killing you."

"Can we find out after if my friends were sold, where they are going?"

"Your friends are gone. Trust me, they will be sold quickly in this crowd. I don't care what happens to my products once I've sold them. Let it go, Arya. We have a long way to go before you are safe in your parents arms. So eat and shut the fuck up. Put your damned eyes back in their sockets. Eat. Shut up and look down. How hard is that, shithead?"

Rattleshirt's wooden spoon glanced off Arya's head with a thunk sound. She briefly winced in pain then as a thin stream of stew dripped down her forehead, Arya gave a level stare at the Wildling.

"Keep it up. I will remember every single thing you do to wrong me."

"You keep it up and maybe I will sell you after all and save myself the trouble! I could make more selling you to a pervert than I would ransoming you to your family! So stop provoking me and eat your damned stew!"

Arya wanted to launch at the man. She wanted to continue to taunt him but his eyes told her he was seconds from tossing his bowl at her next. Wiping the stew off her, Arya forced herself to eat the lukewarm mess in her wooden bowl.

As she put another spoonful into her mouth, Arya thought to herself. My friends gave up their freedom so I could be protected. Rattleshirt is able to do despicable things to be my protector.

He will protect her all the way home until her family can protect her.

_Maybe it's time for me to protect herself._

 


	29. Good Intentions For A Bad Cause

Jorah Mormont was worried, he was deeply worried and perhaps that was what drove his choices.

Viserys was full of shit and he knew it. Sending Jorah off on a ridiculous fucking slave run just as things were heating up towards one hell of a war in the South.

 

_He had called Jorah in as he sat among dead servants._

_"I need you to hand pick new stock for me, Jorah. Something different or new or unique, go wherever you have to. I need entertainment, loyalty and uniqueness, Jorah Before you say anything, I understand you are concerned for the safety of my sweet sister. Don't be concerned, I will make sure that Dany is safe until your return. I have assigned your favorite minion, Greyworm, to her. And her friend Missy is being moved in with her so Dany won't have any loneliness. See? All taken care of. Now find me what I need."_

_It wasn't as if Jorah could say no, Viserys was more the crazy tyrant by the day. Being challenged by the Mountain who has suddenly risen so high seemed to be driving Viserys batshit. Though it could also be how much of his own products he consumes._

_On the verge of war though? Now he is concerned for entertaining and unique slaves? Jorah knew that Viserys would sacrifice everyone, even his own sister if it meant winning. This pact with the fire nuts has Dany worried._

_Now it has Jorah worried too. Greyworm and Missy would protect Dany with their lives but could they protect her from Viserys?  For that matter, could Jorah even if he was right there?_

 

So Jorah left and aimlessly headed down towards North. It was a coast pocketed with hidden trading bays that might have caught something interesting. Jorah found nothing that would interest the demented man and found himself going as far North as he would dare.

It was a trading post that Wildlings frequented, cannibals lived on the outskirts of it, pirates used it for supplies and the whores. Jorah had started out his trading here and never thought he would see it again after his banishment.

He had sat with a mug of cheap sour beer and watched the sales without much interest. Yawning, Jorah stretched and was bemoaning the fact that he might have to go West for better fare when a sudden last three were thrown upon the stage.

The feral girl had a lovely, thin body that the man assures them all contorts like a circus performance. She had a pleasing, sharp angled face and her eyes blazed with a promised fight. Viserys might enjoy taming a feral and he would enjoy her flexibility.

A feral that was a cook? That was certainly unique and Viserys could use a good meal. Might slow him down a second. It was the dwarf that Jorah stared at. He only knew of one golden haired dwarf and he was from the South.

Could it be Tyrion Lannister? Eh, if it was then Jorah can give him to Dany to free or ransom as she wishes. If he is a random little man than off he goes to amuse Viserys. The lunatic will probably love the exotic distraction. 

Perfect and the sale was done. Now Jorah can head home and start helping Dany find her own power before Viserys burns her up in his own.

 

"Do you want them bathed or checked for lice before you take them? Wait, they aren't chained yet...well, no they haven't been...no, they have been compliant but...two of them are ferals! They will run as soon as you get out that door."

"Ferals can easily pick the locks on your chains too. Just let me have my property, would you? Or would you like to just give me my fucking gold back? Pick one."

Tyrion, Hot Pie and Jeyne heard this exchange as they held onto each other in the tiny pen. All three were tensed to run and fight but now they were confused. Why wouldn't their new captor bother putting them in bindings?

A large man came and unlocked the pen, shoving all three forward. He pointed forward with a baton and without a word, all three walked down the small dark hall. Squinting in the sudden light, they found themselves back outside, sucking in the fresh air.

They looked up at a rather scruffy looking man with weathered skin and eyes that barely seemed to see them. He nodded at each of them and his men around him circled them. Jeyne muttered to the other two.

"We can take down the scruffy man, but not all six men too."

A smirk cracked the impassive face and Jorah's eyes looked at the three with mild amusement.

"No, you can't take on all of us, girl. And the three of you wouldn't have taken me down either. The men are here to make sure you don't run off. We all know you are going to try. And you will fail every time. You will be beaten for it and you will continue forward towards your new lives. I don't judge you, I would try to fight or escape if I were in your position. I understand. But you'll still try, fail, be beaten and eventually you will accept this is your new life. You will be the slaves, the property of Viserys Targaryen. Boy, I hope for your sake it wasn't a lie about the cooking. Viserys isn't the best person to get caught in a lie with."

Hot Pie paled but stood tall with his chin up.

"I am a well trained and good cook."

Jeyne stood nearly on her tiptoes and stared Jorah in the face with a snarl that bared her teeth.

"I am truly flexible but I am no whore. I won't be whoring for any man."

Jorah nodded and smiled.

"I will let you explain that to your new master yourself when you meet him."

He turned to look over at the little man who has said nothing yet. The little man seemed to be in a small state of shock as if he cannot understand how things went so far wrong.

Jorah crouched down and looked the man in the eyes.

"Tell me the truth. Are you Tyrion Lannister, son of Tywin, sister to Cersei? Or some random dwarf escaped from a circus?"

He laughed as he saw Tyrion calculate which answer would be safest.

"I think you are Tyrion Lannister. Because any other little man would have sprained their tongue trying to leap up to such a famous, rich name. If you were a random dwarf, then Viserys would have had a new pet to amuse him. However, if you are Tyrion, you will go to my Dany, Viserys's sister. She is not half as crazy as her brother and Dany is very against her brother's human trades. She might free you to go your own way or ransom you back to your father. Either way, it's much better than a fate of being a plaything to Viserys."

"But _we_ will be the playthings of this crazed man. How nice."

Jorah chuckled at Hot Pie's muttering.

"I will allow you to have a full meal before we set sail."

The flesh walls around the three was solid and the three were more pushed along than escorted. They found themselves at a long rough table at an outdoor bar.

"Oh look, stale bread to go with the staler stew. Lovely."

Jorah raised an eyebrow at Tyrion.

"You look as if you have been traveling for quite awhile and I'm betting you had very little to eat the past few days. That gives away who you are right there. Lannister snobbery knows no bounds. Eat your stew and pretend it's a meal from our new cook."

Tyrion begrudgingly began to eat as Hot Pie began his own list of complaints involving the stew. Jeyne silently cleaned her plate, finished off her brother's stew and stole Tyrion's bread.

"I am a nervous eater. I like to eat. Don't stare at me, it's rude. Feral, not savage. Look away. Now."

The men all shifted their eyes and Jorah stifled a smile at how the girl managed to shame the handlers. Jorah felt bad that Viserys will probably end up snuffing that attitude out. Oh, he will enjoy the rebellious girl for a while then she will say one wrong thing. 

He pictured this girl dead on Viserys's floor like the others and Jorah cleared his throat. Getting back to Dany is what mattered and Jorah can only do that if he brings back these slaves. 

"Hurry up, all of you. Finish your meals and let's get moving."

"Wait! Look, Hot Pie, Tyrion, look! It's Arya! See, over there! Does Rattleshirt even see the looks some of the men are giving her? Rattleshirt isn't buying enough weapons to keep that girl safe from the cannibals! They will be after them the second they leave the trading post!"

Jorah looked at what the three were nearly climbing the table to peer at. He saw a Wildling and a very sullen looking teenage girl.

"Did he buy her? Was she a friend of yours?"

Tyrion looked at Jorah with an urgent need in his eyes.

"Listen, please, Jorah. That girl is Arya Stark and that is a very important name in the North. As important as Lannister is in the South. My friends and I are in this position so that she has a safe way home. We gave the Wildling our word to let ourselves be sold so he can provide Arya a safe way home. He will ransom her back to her family. But two Stark's were turned cannibal, they are after her, they followed us all the way here. They will be after her and I don't trust that Wildling to do the job on his own properly. Can I persuade you to intervene in any way?"

Jorah sighed and looked over at the girl tagging after the savage man. Jorah knew who the Starks were, they banished him. But this girl, she was just that and in this place she had no name. Perhaps that was for the best.

"I have heard the North has a big, sudden cannibal problem. And you say at least two of the Starks are cannibals now. Can you say which Starks are left and where they might be? I have my doubts that Wildling can hold off cannibals for long and even if he returns her...what if she is the last Stark left? And he finds that he went through all that trouble to be stuck with a girl no one will pay for? What happens to her then?"

Standing abruptly after his musings, Jorah gruffly gave orders for the men to get the slaves on the boat.

"If you three give no trouble while getting into the boat, I will help out your friend the best I can."

 

Agreeing with true eagerness to see Arya helped, Tyrion and the ferals walked quietly to the docks. They boarded without issue then leaned over the side to see the trading post.

They watched as Jorah walked past Rattleshirt and Arya.

 

Rattleshirt grabbed his slit throat and gurgled, falling down to flop about like a fish. Arya stared down in confusion. She felt a strange man lean over her from behind and his whisper tickled her ear.

"I would take his provisions, his weapons, everything you can before someone else does. No one cares if someone dies here. Do not go back North, it has been infected. Hire some of the female mercenaries to protect you. Move onward to another location, girl. You can thank my new slaves for your freedom."

Arya knelt down and ransacked Rattleshirt's body while he let out gurgles. Her eyes tracked the man who killed her captor. She watched him board a boat with dragons painted on it. She saw her friends leaning over the side waving and yelling even though she couldn't hear them.

 


	30. Bad News, A Good Story And Pirates

Tyrion began to yell at Jorah the moment he stepped onto the boat.

"You just left her with no one at all! How is that a solution? At least Rattleshirt could have tried to take care of her! A little girl all alone at that trading post is...you need to go back and-"

The backhand sent the smaller man head over heels into Hot Pie's lap. The sitting ferals glared at Jorah as they helped their friend up.

"That is enough out of you. You do not order me around or yell at me. I'm not your friend, I bought you, recall that? You are just a slave and you will show respect. I got rid of her kidnapper. I advised the girl to take everything the Wildling had and hire herself a female mercenary to get her home. I was generous enough to do that and I would think you should learn to show gratitude for little things, Tyrion. Remember that instead of Dany, I can always show you to Viserys. You won't believe the fun he would have with you."

"And that is the man you would sell my friends too. Aren't you just a nice guy, yeah, I feel very grateful, Jorah. Thanks."

Tyrion wiped the blood from his lip but decided to say nothing more. Jorah walked away to speak to the captain and Jeyne leaned closer.

"Don't worry, Tyrion. We will all be just fine. Listen, he said his Dany will set you free or ransom you home. Don't blow that chance, alright? Hot Pie and I can figure out a way to escape. Go to this Dany. And we will deal with this Viser...Viser...whatever, ourselves."

Tyrion chuckled but with little humor in it.

"My dear girl, I know exactly who the Targaryens are. Who Dany and Viserys are. They are chemists, drug dealers, criminals of the worst sort and quite murderous. My family toppled and slaughtered their family years ago. There is a great deal of bad blood and I have heard that Viserys is utterly mad hatter crazy. Who knows if his sister is any less crazy?"

Tilting their heads, the ferals questioned what a mad hatter was. Tyrion laughed for real this time. Instead of fearing being owned by insane criminal drug lords, the two simply question a strange phrase.

"Ah, to have priorities be so easy."

Tyrion groaned but explained the book Alice In Wonderland. He ended up telling the entire tale as he saw both of them seemed utterly fascinated by it. He made it most of the way through the tale of the Looking Glass before it was twilight out.

 

Arya swept up all of Rattleshirt's belongings and skirted her way around the body and into the crowd. She melted into a rush of others so she could attach his belt and holster the gun and blades.

Slinging the newly purchased back pack with supplies over her shoulder, Arya went towards the docks. She found a young pirate just daydreaming and nudged him.

"Excuse me. That ship over there, the one with the Dragons. Who owns that? Who are the dragons?"

The man stared at Arya like she was from another planet.

"Where the fuck have you been? It's Targaryen. They run half the drugs and human trade market in the South. They run anything that the Mountain doesn't. You don't want to fuck with them, little girl."

"I want to rent a small boat, who do I see around here?"

The young man started to laugh and point at her. Arya turned red but stood her ground.

"I am not joking. I need to find a boat, my friends are being kidnapped and I must save them. I have plenty of coin to rent a boat with."

A rich but harsh female voice called from behind Arya.

"Now, Wes, are you teasing a girl instead of keeping an eye on things, like I asked?"

"Sorry, Asha, it's just this girl...she wants to rent a boat to chase down the Targaryens who kidnapped her friends. All by herself."

Arya spun around to see the same pirate woman she saw throwing knives earlier. Great, two of them to make fun of her now.

"Is this true, girl? Do you think to take on the Targaryens? Are you alone here?"

"Listen to me. My friends, Tyrion Lannister and two ferals were sold as slaves. They are on that boat and I need to help them. They sacrificed themselves for me!"

Asha crinkled her face.

"Two ferals? You would waste your time and life to save ferals, are you touched, girl?"

"They are my friends. They truly are and they sacrificed themselves for me and so did Tyrion. I need to help them. Please, I just need to rent a boat!"

Asha sighed and shook her head.

"You are a crazy thing. But follow me and I'll help you get your boat. I hope I am not sending you off to slavery or death, kid. But you are a kickass little thing, aren't you? Are you sure you don't want to check with your family first? Have you run away and this is your big adventure?"

 

Arya followed the woman and grinned.

"Nope. I'm from the North which is full of cannibals right now. Two of my family members turned and are chasing me to turn me cannibal along with them. If I head towards home, they will just come for me again. And I don't know where the rest of my family is or if they are even safe. So I am going to help my friends. It's a clear focus and a good goal, don't you think?"

"I guess so compared to fighting off cannibals through the woods. Are you sure this is what you wish to do though? I could use a new cabin boy or girl and you could see the world with me. Learn, maybe the pirate life will suit you."

"Are you a slave trader?"

"Personally, no. But I have moved humans for money. Not often, but when we need to repair our ship or feed our men...sometimes we do things we don't enjoy. Don't judge me, girl. You are being offered a chance to join the Greyjoy's service. Not many girls would get that offer."

"The Greyjoys? Theon Greyjoy is one of the cannibals chasing me!"

Asha seemed to pale a bit and sway.

"My brother is a cannibal? What is your name, girl? How do you know Theon?"

"I'm Arya Stark. Theon was raised with me, he cared for me and taught me to fight. Then Sansa became infected, then turned cannibal...and then she turned Theon. He is your brother? Wait, that's right, he spoke of his sister Asha sometimes! I'm sorry to give that news to you, Asha."

The pirate nodded and silently continued to walk, seeming lost in thought. She indicated a small boat and spoke to an elderly man about it for Arya. The girl gave some of the money from Rattleshirt's pouch to the man and hoped she wasn't being swindled.

Luckily, Theon had taught all of the Starks how to row a boat as well as swim, so Arya was able to easily and smoothly paddle away from Asha's impressive ship. The woman had wished Arya luck but in a tone that suggested she may never hear of the girl again.

 

"Tell me the Walrus part again, please?"

Jorah and the men all groaned along with Tyrion and Hot Pie. 

"I swear to any God that exists, dwarf, if you tell that fucking poem one more time, I will personally murder you and to hell with the money loss! Curse you, pick a new fucking story to tell or shut the fuck up!"

One of the men near the very back of the boat suddenly hollered.

"Jorah, you are NOT going to believe this! We are being followed!"

"What? Who the hell is stupid enough to follow Targaryen sails?"

"Uh...remember that little girl? The one you killed the Wildling for? It's her. In a row boat. Following us. And she has a rifle in the boat and I can just see that she has a holster on. She is at a pretty good distance back from us. Nowhere near shooting range."

Jorah took the binoculars for a better look while his three captives all rammed against the back of the boat to look. It was just light enough in the sky still to see Arya's figure in the little boat.

"What is she doing? Is she crazy? Curse you for causing me this fucking trouble, dwarf!"

"Stop cursing me. My father and sister have been trying to curse me for years and everyone wants to curse me! Look at my size and my follies! Have I not been cursed enough? Do others see me and there is just something SO _curse-able_ about me?"

"Don't you dare hurt her! You hear me! You leave that girl alone! If she gets too close, I shall talk to her. Make her go away. Do not hurt her or try to kidnap her! She will NOT be a slave! Look how young she is, you sick man!"

Jorah sighed and the other men all felt abashed even though they have done nothing.

"For the love of...girl, I have NO interest in selling her as a sex slave! I can't believe you can even draw that assumption! I do not wish to harm the girl, but if she shoots at us, we must defend ourselves. We will use warning shots if we can to send her scurrying."

Tyrion grinned in spite of his fear for Arya.

"That girl is stubborn. Arya has decided to sacrifice herself the way we did for her. She is trying to save us, poor kid. She will follow us all the way South and into Targaryen hell. Fuck. Arya will end up dead, raped or owned. There is no option, Jeyne, if Arya gets too close, Jorah has to scare her off. The girl has no idea what she is dealing with or where she is headed. I'm flattered, terrified and proud all at once. Oh, Arya."

 

Her arms hurt like crazy, it had been some time since Arya rowed a boat. Also, she was trying to go as fast as if she were racing Theon. Part of her felt guilty for abandoning home and her family. What did her father and brother come home to?

The Wildlings had destroyed most of everything. Then Rickon and Sansa...did her mother get away? Maybe she was with Robb and their father? Or Roose came back? Arya knew her mother wasn't a cannibal or she would have been with her children.

What happened to Bran, was he saved? And Jon? But there was no clear way for Arya to get past the cannibals to get home. Tyrion, Hot Pie and Jeyne tried so hard to help Arya at great expense to their lives. She cannot abandon them to a life of slavery to criminals.

If she has to kill those men on that boat to save her friends, so be it. Arya isn't the best shot in the world, but she isn't that bad either. Or at least she hopes.

 

It was just after they all ate their soup and biscuits that Arya got close enough to take a shot at their bow.

"Are you kidding me? Dammit, that is enough. Fire close enough to scare the little brat."

Two of the men aimed carefully and shot.

The water splashed up in front of Arya's boat but the girl only stopped rowing long enough to rotate her shoulders and rest her arms for a moment. Against their own better judgement, Tyrion and the ferals cheered Arya, earning themselves a dirty look from Jorah.

"Don't encourage her! One more cheer out of any of you and I'll have you gagged and bound!"

They managed to keep their tongues as they all watched Arya continue to follow them. This time she seemed content to stay at a safe distance and not attempt any more gunfire.

"She can't keep this up all the way home."

Jorah sounded less than positive of that but the men nodded anyway.


	31. Lady Stoneheart And The Mother Of Madness

_A forest fire couldn't have caused the same quick damage as the new cannibals._

_The infection was stronger, it was faster and it drove some of them completely mad._

_Others became cunning and were still capable of planning. Either way, both types managed a great amount of damage within a short time._

_Some that were beserk with hunger and need managed to overwhelm a small hamlet near the line where Bolton territory begins. Led by Yellow Dick and Luton, formerly Ramsay's boys, they turned half the village and ate the rest._

_Robb Stark had been left to protect Winterfell while his parents worked with Roose to release Jon and Ramsay from the Wildlings. He has high hopes at least for this new development. There might be a truce between the Wildlings and civilized lands to help rid them of all the cannibals._

_He still hopes that Arya, Jon and Rickon will all be home soon and safe. Robb is pretty sure that Sansa will be killed since she is a full blown cannibal now. He grieves her as much as he does little Bran._

_When he was hailed to see something curious at the gates, Robb went quickly. He saw the poor little girl crouched in front of the gate, covered in blood and tears._

_"Please? Help me? I'm Lyanna Mormont and I need the Starks to help me please! My island...my little island! They attacked and most of my people...my mother fought them and told me to hide. I hid then I ran over so many of my own friends' bodies...then I found this man, his name is Bronn. He helped me, saved me. Promised to bring me here where I could be safe. And Bronn's friend is here to vouch for him. Tyrion...please, let us in?"_

_Robb had the gates thrown open and he himself rushed out to the little girl. He did pause to ask if she had any bites or scratches._

_Bursting into tears, Lyanna shook her head and trembled._

_"N...no...I had...I had to run and I jumped over them but...I fell into...into my mother's body. It's her blood."_

_Feeling guilty for even asking, Robb swept the girl into his arms and rushed her inside, letting Bronn follow behind them. Before the gates had fully closed, Lyanna was on him._

_Robb felt his throat ripped, dug into by tiny sharp teeth and the world tinged red. Bronn laughed as he ripped into a man controlling the gate. He shattered the mechanism that locked the gate and welcomed the other cannibals that formerly worked for the Mormonts in._

_Winterfell was a cannibal controlled land within hours._

 

The group that tried to attack the actual Bolton estate were brutally dispatched, the offense led by Cersei Lannister.

She had decided to take it upon herself to protect Dreadfort and surrounding areas. Cat couldn't allow the woman to take such an important job all by herself and offered to share it with her. 

It was sheer luck for Cersei that Cat had chosen to take off on another run when the riot happened.

 

Roose and Ned were off in Wildling territory, having no idea what the woman were doing. Or so they lied to themselves, not wishing to deal with the stone eyed ladies.

Roose and Ned would deal with the Wildlings and the return of Jon and Ramsay.

None of that mattered to the women. What mattered to the women was exterminating this plague and finding their children.

 

Cat had just returned from another search and slaughter as her group of men called them. These were Bolton trained men and have seen as well as participated in true torture. Yet this woman was the coldest, cruelest and deadliest female they have ever met.

The men that worked for Cersei, also Bolton men, felt exactly the same way about their temporary leader. These two truly seem to need each kill and they will do it in any fashion they can to get the job done.

Each man has a picture and description glowing deep in their minds of Sansa, Rickon and Joff. The women made it clear that if they saw these three, they were not to kill but capture. Something that even the two women haven't managed to do yet.

They have tried several times to trap and catch a cannibal. The bastards will save each other and destroy traps. On occasion a cannibal will take a shit or piss upon the trap to let the hunters know what they think of the idea.

If a hunter did accidentally wound or kill Sansa, Rickon or Joff, the hunter will die an agonizing death at the mother's hands. All the hunters agreed silently that they would rather be murdered by Roose or Ramsay.

 

When word came over the radio about Winterfell and Robb Stark's death, Cersei was the one to deliver the news. She waited until Cat had come back to the chilly house. Waited until the woman showered, ate and sat down with a glass of wine.

Cersei watched as Cat drank and raged. The woman cried and raged some more. Then she went on and on telling small stories of her children. Struggling not to yawn, Cersei just allowed the drunk, sad mother to babble as she needed to.

Finally, Cat fell asleep on the couch and Cersei covered her with a blanket. Tenderly, she leaned over the poor woman, sleeping with tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Your oldest most special prince boy is dead. Torn to shreds by monsters. He suffered greatly to protect a piece of land. Your other son was murdered in a raid. At least he died quickly and that is the best that can be said for that needless tragedy. That little horse faced girl of yours that you had such pride in...she was so much like you, so stubborn and tough...she is gone. Probably killed or turned by now from what we heard. And your oldest girl, your princess and your precious little youngest boy, merely a babe, they were stolen by those cannibals. We need to harden our hearts and think of our living children. Saving them. We can't think of anything else. Destroying the monsters and saving our living children. You sleep on it. You sleep and dream and grieve for your dead babies. Then like I did, you put them away deep inside and focus on the live babies left."

Cat squirmed and moaned as Cersei patted her shoulder and walked away to seek her own bed. Three hours of sleep and then Cersei has plans to make for the two of them.

"We will shoot to wound, cut off arms and legs and tourniquet if we need to. Qyburn needs a cannibal. At any cost. We cannot move forwards until that task is done."

"Qyburn said he wouldn't get as much from a dying cannibal. And that a new one would be best. We cannot tell whether one has been turned recently or not."

Cat gave a chilling smirk to Cersei.

"I have a donor. We go and wound a cannibal and bring it here. Now give me that fucking aspirin and stop just tossing it in your hand."

 

It took one afternoon for Cersei and Cat to catch a cannibal. Of course, it was shot several times and bleeding out. They managed to gag it and drag it between their horses back to Dreadfort.

"Quick, get Qyburn, it's dying soon! It won't live much longer, get that doctor!"

Obeying Cersei's hiss, the men flew to reach the doctor's small clinic. Cat then turned and snapped at another man nearby.

"You! We need that man that Roose said we could have. The one that failed to keep his son safe! Bring him here! Hurry!"

Qyburn got there just before Alyn was dragged forward. The man was terrified and screaming for mercy.

The desperate mothers had none.

Cat carefully removed the gag and allowed the cannibal to hiss and gnash its teeth at her. Blood was gurgling out of it's mouth and it was losing color.

"Doctor! Get the sedative and restraints ready! Men, hold his arm or any part of him over the beast's mouth. Let the thing get a really good bite but not a killing one."

Five men used nearly all their strength to force the bulky and frantic bully to put his beefy arm over the cannibal's mouth. Alyn shrieked when the angry, dying man tore a chunk out of the arm.

"Perfect! Move his arm back, but don't let go of Alyn."

Qyburn instructed as he moved closer and injected the bit man with a powerful sedative. He quickly had the men help put the tight and thick restraints on the now asleep man.

Alyn was wrapped around his shoulders, elbows and wrists. His legs were wrapped several times down to his ankles. A wire muzzle was fitted over his face. Qyburn was nearly dancing in his excitement as he directed the men to carry Alyn into his clinic.

 

"Now that the doctor has an infected to work with, he should be able to help Joff and your children soon. By the time we find them, Qyburn will have something. We can't wait any longer, Cat. You know that the men will deal with the Wildlings and then they will all trample the North to scare off the cannibals. Are they going to be able to stop every savage from killing our children? No, of course not. And from the last reports we heard just this morning, our children were tracking Arya towards the Northern borders. Let's head out with the men we were lent and truly search for our children. The men won't do it, we have to."

"I want to and I agree that it sounds like the children are nowhere near here. Let me just wait to tell Ned and we will go."

"If you wait to tell Ned, who knows if he plans to stop back before they all make a pact and go off to battle? And if he does and you tell him our plans, he will object. Strongly. We do not have time to convince him of the importance of finding our children on our own."

Cat knew Cersei was right and began to pack her weapons. A young man approached Cat and nearly whispered his words, he has heard of the punishment they gave Alyn. This has terrified all at Dreadfort. They are silently thrilled that the women seem to be leaving soon.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Stark. There was a radio message for you. The person didn't wish to wait for us to get you to speak in person. Name was Asha Greyjoy. Wanted you to know that your daughter was headed South in a boat, following a dwarf, two ferals and Targaryen slave traders. She didn't explain, that was the entire message."

Cat sat down in a chair, reeling. It had to be Arya...she was taking a boat to follow Tyrion, his ferals and drug dealing slave traders? And how did a female pirate feel the empathy to let a worried mother know?

She told Cersei of it when the woman came in all ready to collect the men and go.

"That is wonderful news! Listen, if Arya Stark pleads for my father's assistance, she will be given safe passage to him. He is a terrible person, but he wouldn't hurt your daughter. And even if she just catches up with my brother, thought why anyone would want to be with him on purpose, I don't understand...Tyrion would care for her or make sure she reached my father. We cannot reach her, Cat. We can only hope to reach our infected children. They haven't left the North yet. Arya has sailed away, but the others are still within our grasp, to save."

Cat nodded and stood up.

"I know. Let's head out."


	32. They Don't Make Them Like They Used To

Leaning further onto the rock, Olly giggled and ignored the calls from his scouting partners.

"Little shit! Enough of your laziness or I swear I'm gonna kick your ass! Styr was too kind letting you scout, you are still too much a stupid child for it!"

Olly took no offense, too busy laughing at whatever held his attention on the beach. He pointed and tried to turn his laughter into actual words.

"But look! And see this! I think they are us...I mean...predators, meat eaters! Look! They are so fucking stupid! They are going to die soon! They are breaking everyone of Styr's rules! They can't be us or our other loyal tribes, what stupid tribe teaches the opposite rules? Look at them!"

The two cannibals came closer and found themselves staring and tilting their heads as if it would help. They weren't laughing, not a bit.

One of them swore and then headed towards the trio. The other one smacked Olly's head hard and ordered him to stay there while he went to help with the idiots.

 

The canoe was half in the water. However, the paddles and the passengers were not. No, the passengers were busy using the paddles to beat the hell out of each other.

The canoe and paddles were meant for light leisurely hours on the water. It was not meant to go all the way South or beyond. They were nearly upon the trading post and could be noticed. The canoe was stolen and if the owner notices, someone will surely come after them.

All of these were valid reasons that Theon and Reek managed to produce for Sansa and Rickon. They did not care. Their sister just left on that little boat and they must go after her.

Theon refuses to allow the siblings onto the canoe and Reek refuses to step foot upon the canoe and risk discovery. He made this clear and that is when Sansa started a tug of war with Theon for the paddle. Then Rickon began to get involved, hitting Theon with the other paddle.

 

When a voice growled near them and two rugged large men came towards them, Reek nearly shrieked. Theon managed to turn the girlish scream into a garble of bitten off words.

"Others! Look! Others!"

"Stupid fucking idiots! Are you touched? Are you trying to get slaughtered where you stand? What the hell tribe decided to banish you for stupidity? Get into those trees right now! Did no one teach you? Who made you, where is your leader, dammit? Boy, I will shove that paddle up your ass and carry you back that way! That's right you best put it down. you little shit! Get your ass moving! Into the trees, now! Fools!"

 

Sansa had felt how strange it was to just know your own type. But though they intimidated her a bit, Sansa had not felt endangered nor did she hunger for them. No, somehow she just knew they were her kind of person. The freed kind. But they didn't understand.

"Wait...I must go this way, into the water. My sister, you see, she sailed away and I need to-"

Rickon gasped in horror as his sister was grabbed by her collar like a naughty preschooler and dragged away.

"You don't have to, you don't need to, you just want to. Its part of our instinct to want to bring our family and friends into our fold. We can't always do it. This is one of those times. You need to learn to control your new feelings and desires. You are way newer than I had thought, dammit. Can't just run you back off, can I? You are tribe-less, aren't you?"

Sansa was too busy squirming but Theon and Rickon were listening and following. Theon answered for them when Rickon frowned.

"We have been our own tribe for a few days. Sansa was infected a year or two back but we were able to contain her from the cannibal part. Then someone gave her drugs. There are a bunch more down further North at the Starks, Boltons and Strip. But these two morons just kept us chasing after their damned sister. We had two others with us but they leaped in front of bullets and died. I tried hard to keep these two alive. I did that before I turned and I still have to fucking do it."

Olly rushed over and grinned at them all.

"You have no leader and no tribe? Stay with us! Come meet Styr! He takes in new ones all the time! I am only a year turned and we have more that are our age. The older ones aren't as fun but we sneak and one time me an' Joff, we-"

Sansa suddenly lurched forward and stared at the excited boy.

"Joff? Is he blonde and has blue eyes?"

Olly nodded then stared in utter fearful horror as the sweet older girl's face became a demonic force.

"DID YOU JUST SAY JOFF? HE WAS MY FIANCE, MY ONE TRUE LOVE, THAT MOTHERFUCKER IS ALIVE AND HERE!? HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN TRYING TO FIND ME AND FREE ME FROM THOSE SHEEP! WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS MY LOVE, HE NEEDS A TALK WITH HIS PRECIOUS FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!"

Reek groaned and Theon allowed the sound as he shook his head in despair.

"Its not fair. Its really not. There is no way I can keep her from that little monster. Two monsters, no wait, I forgot Rickon. So that is three monsters and one of us. Fucked. That is what I am. Fucked."

No one paid attention to his mutterings and he began to blindly follow them as they were led away from the beach. Reek was at least glad they would be safe and Theon was hoping maybe someone else can help him contain the Stark children.

 

Styr stared with disgust and mild worry at the blonde moronic little sadist. Cannibals are not what they used to be. If pressed for it, Styr can vaguely remember life before being turned. Very little of it matters to him so he doesn't recall things well.

He was forty five and had been a cannibal almost his whole life.

He must have been at least eighteen when he was turned, yes, he was almost sure of it. Because his last memory that he clearly remembers was being attacked. It was a night he had been waiting for.

_He had been promised by his father that on his eighteenth birthday, he could have his first whore. It was the least his junkie, cocksucker dad could do for him. The infection came so fast, Styr never had a chance._

_Walking down the alleyway to meet his father and some Riverlands whore who was willing to pop his cherry for him. Instead he got a homeless man that leaped on him, teeth sinking hard into his shoulder._

_He killed the bastard but not before he took a good chunk of meat from him. Styr ran to find his father and found him dead, the whore was eating him. She took good care of Styr. And indeed came through on the promise of laying him._

_Styr accidentally ripped her throat out while he came to an orgasm. For a week afterwards he mindlessly attacked anything and everything. And nearly got himself killed several times._

_Luckily he found another cannibal that was slightly older and more balanced. His name was Allister Thorne. Styr got his ass kicked with regularity until he learned the rules created by Allister._

_Allister had a few others with him, he led them, they followed the same rules. Styr learned and created more to teach them to learn as well. And as a rule, they always took in and saved others like them when they can._

_At first all went well and all the tribes got along. Then the civilized sheep came along as one force and began to drive them all out. Killing different tribes off and none of them would become one to fight back._

_It just wasn't there, empathy was missing. It was a rule to help new ones, but there was no rule to help other tribes._

_And Styr knows that is what caused the exile, truly. Not the Boltons, Starks or any of the others. Not South, North or Riverlands combined did as much damage to the cannibals as they did by ignoring each other's tribes._

_No one wanted to hear that. Styr did the unthinkable and brought the biggest rule of all. He murdered his own leader and took over by pure force and smarts. He carefully explained to all that they needed to have one tribe, one King and eventually bring other tribes into the fold._

_This has been a long standing goal, a plan that has been discussed and planned to death. Styr is only waiting for the right time now and he knows it is coming._

 

But right now, his focus is on this sadistic idiot at his feet.

"You are a disgrace. You were to hunt and bring home any wandering alone prey of a two legged kind. And so when you found none...you ate a live rabbit on the dirt road, a somewhat public one? Costing your party time and might have gotten you all killed if a large armed party came through. Is your brain just too damaged? You can spend the week back on shit detail here in the camp. Forget being allowed to scout or hunt. I am already probably about to regret sending Olly out for a scouting mission. You new ones are just...you are faster made and twice as savage but with less control, less sanity!"

Joff whined.

"I was hungry and if I eat while I run, I get a stomach ache."

Styr had an urge to lift the boy and toss him into the fire pit that blazed behind the boy.

"Sweet Gods, you are stupid. Do you remember when I wouldn't let you turn or eat your mother when you really wanted to? Do you recall why I did that? What I said to you? I told you that one of the first things, most important things you could ever learn was to not give in to your impulses. To force yourself to stop and think it through?"

Nodding, Joff looked up at Styr.

"You also said that my mother would have tried to challenge you for your spot. That you don't turn other alphas. If other alphas come here you help them learn then send them away to make smaller tribes. You make sure they remember to respect you and keep their promise to see you as their king. My mother would never do that. She would sweetly lie and then slit your throat."

Styr frowned as the boy giggled. He kicked Joff in the face and felt better when the pussy started to cry in pain. Just then a commotion. Olly and the two other scouts seemed to have found straggler morons.

He could tell they were so new it had only been a few days. He also could see the same manic insanity roaming in their eyes. At least with the redhead and the little boy. The young man with them was truly crazy, in a different way. 

Styr smelt predator and prey all at once on him and it was confusing. Well, he would have to figure out that mystery. Of course the first thing to deal with will be calming down the girl.

The redhead started to scream at Joff the second she saw him. Joff stared at her then began to scream back. The subject seemed completely illogical.

However, the sight of the redhead backhanding Joff nearly into the fire when he called her a bitch was enough to make even Styr smile. 

 

It took an hour for Styr to hear each of them. He aggressively questioned them, slapping them if they babbled or got off track.  Theon was the only one to not recieve a blow. The credit went solely to Reek who was a silent counsel.

Rickon received several whacks and Sansa had a split lip from two hits. Finally, Styr heard enough and told the others to wash and feed their new tribal members. Then he went to think. He called his advisors in and they discussed things one last time.

As Sansa, Rickon and Theon were eating their first cooked human meat, Styr called everyone forth.

Styr held his hands up.

"It is time to return to our true Northern home! The civilized are being overtaken, attacked by an outbreak of new meat eaters! We must do our duty and go help them! Help them and then teach them how to be good tribes and loyal to us, to me. Everyone must get a very good night's sleep after your packing is done! We join our brethren in their war to take over and rule as the prey shivers in the trees. Where we should not live, but go to hunt them. We shall right this wrong and send the prey where they belong."


	33. A Family Of Our Own

There was something very different about the boys. Ned and Roose noticed it right away.

The first thing they did was demand proof of their living sons. Mance had smiled and offered something even better.

Tormund kept a large hand on each prisoner's shoulder as he brought them to stand near Mance. Both Jon and Ramsay had mild injuries but that was to be expected. They were dressed in Wildling clothing and both had their hands tied.

But there was something different about them.

Roose was troubled by the malicious joy gleaming in Ramsay's eye and Ned was disturbed at the smoldering distant anger in Jon's. He somehow felt reproached and he had never felt that way from Jon before.

It didn't matter and the men said nothing of it. They nodded in satisfaction that the boys were alive and relatively unharmed. Things were too critical in the North to worry about the feelings of surly sons.

 

Mance and Tormund sat across from Roose and Ned at a large wooden picnic table. They were at the edge of Mance's territory, not trusting them any closer to his people and their homes.

"Our radios have never been so lively, gents. Mr. Stark, I'll offer my apologies for the loss of your home and children. Course, I'd like to curse you for starting the whole thing in the first place, but not while your grieving. Except we don't have time for grieving, any of us, do we? And we don't have time for accusing either. So from my understanding, the only thing left standing protected is my territory and the Dreadfort. Am I correct in that?"

Tormund leaned forward and said in the loudest conspiratorial whisper,

"We also just heard say, like an hour ago, that Stark's wife and the Southern bitch took off on a personal hunt with half of your men, Roose."

Jon winced and Ramsay rolled his eyes. This was going to take a very long time if this was the best that the Wildlings could do for politeness.

It probably would have taken awhile.

Then the smell of smoke hit them all as the first of the screams began. Gunfire ripped through the air, arrows were flying like suicidal birds. It was Tormund who released both young men from their bonds.

Ramsay tried to grab for the large man's gun and got a swat in his head for his trouble. He was picked up and tossed straight into Jon, sending both tumbling. Jon cursed and threw Ramsay off him.

And the siblings and Tormund witnessed their entire worlds crumble to ash.

 

Jon tried, he tried to lunge forward but he was too far away. He screamed in a sickening despair as a circle of cannibals overwhelmed Roose and Ned. They just climbed over any fallen comrade that Ned, Mance or Roose killed and kept coming.

It was a horrid mix of Karstark, Manderly, Wildling and more. The only colors not present were Bolton.

Tormund was leading the other Wildlings in a desperate battle to save themselves and the two young men were unnoticed so far by all.

 

Ramsay grabbed Jon and put one hand over his mouth.

"They are dead and we can't change that. We need to go before we are just as dead. We have no weapons....we need to leave right now."

Jon allowed Ramsay to drag him into the shadows of the woods. He tried to resist Ramsay's attempts to make him run away, trying to see back towards his father.

"Jon, I saw some deranged cannibal bite your foster father. I saw him rip right through Ned's neck, okay? He is fucking dead. You can't save him. And my father...your real father, if he was still alive, I would know it. I would feel it. And I don't feel him alive...I feel free. I can travel alone, I don't give a shit but you are my brother. My only family left now, so let's go."

Ramsay felt better than ever actually and Jon's misery only sweetened it. He yanked hard upon Jon's wrist and got him moving.

"We have a hunt of our own, Jon. Let's find Sansa, Rickon and Theon. I want to make a family of my own, I think."

Jon huffed but let Ramsay run him deeper towards the direction of the borders.

"Wait, why should we do that? Ramsay, they are cannibals now! We can't fix that and they would just try to turn or eat us."

"Don't worry, I have an idea. A plan. You'll like it. And once we get closer to them, I will let you know what that plan is, brother. Now keep running, until-"

Jon pushed Ramsay away from him, as if suddenly regaining his senses.

"Get off me! You aren't my brother! Not like Robb was. You don't give a fuck about me or your own father for that matter! Why should I follow you on this crazy plan of yours? They are cannibals, Ramsay. You can't change it and we already saw with Sansa that it can't be fixed! Dreadfort was still standing the last Tormund heard, remember? That is where I am going. Come with me or don't. I don't really care."

For one quick second, a flicker of that bestial rage came over Ramsay's face like it did when Jon angered him in the Wildling's hole prison. It still looked cannibalistic in the daylight of the woods and Jon fell back a bit.

Then Ramsay seemed to pull it back and after a moment, he smiled at Jon with fake brilliance.

"Fine. You are right. Dreadfort has provisions, we need them for this journey. Let's go there first and I will explain my plan to you. Then you'll understand and want to come with me. Qyburn can help me explain how we can most certainly change the cannibals."

Jon gave Ramsay a look that plainly said he didn't think Ramsay or the creepy doctor could convince him of anything. Ramsay ignored that and ran with Jon towards Dreadfort. At least Jon was moving again, that was really all that mattered.

But now that Roose was truly dead, Ramsay was head of his household. His own man finally and whether he liked him or not, Jon was his brother. Jon will learn that his fate was tied to his brother now and that Ramsay would be the leader of it.

Once Jon was bitten by Ramsay and Qyburn has controlled him, things will be easier. Then the brothers will go and retrieve the others that belong to their family.

Ramsay will make Sansa his wife, Theon will be his pet and Rickon will Ramsay's leverage against Jon when his brother acts defiantly. Perfect. And then they will grow and take North, South, anything they wish, really.  

 


	34. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

"You. Remind me of my brother. Jon."

"I don't care."

"But you do. Not looking like him. No, he is dark and you are all gold. He is young and you are old. But you frown and act all gloomy. Just like Jon."

"Still not caring."

"Can I borrow your golden hand?"

"No. For the fortieth fucking time. No. I will never let you borrow my damned HAND! Don't ask me again."

"You always say not to ask you again when you know I will."

"Fucking kill me. Stop talking. Look, a stick, go fetch! Damn it, I was hoping that would work."

"Why are you so upset and gloomy? You don't like being new?"

"We aren't new, boy. We are just different, infected, turned cannibal. So it's a new diet and an outcast life for us. Never been much for camping and I don't particularly care to hunt prey that talks and begs..then there is the small fact that these assholes caused the death of my best friend. Oh, also, now I will never know what happened to my sister or my brother for that matter. And who knows what damage my father and the Mountain have caused the South. I cannot help them, I can only follow the ape leader around and do as I'm told. Like babysit crazy children like you while the others get to keep up a proper pace forward."

"At least you have a cool gold hand."

"Well, yes. Such a comfort, thank you for reminding me. I almost forgot to add my metallic blessings to all the others. Let's see...I am still alive. Yeah, oh, yes, my sadistic nephew is here and crazier than ever before. Figures he is the relative I get stuck with. I'm going to stop tallying up blessings now. Please stop trying to cheer me up, Rickon, before I end up chewing through my own wrists."

The maddening child giggled and darted through the trees like a squirrel on caffeine.

"Do you run on batteries or something?"

"My mother used to say that!"

"Did she now? Tell me, do you miss her?"

Rickon wound his body around a tree trunk as he pondered the question and then shrugged.

"I remember her and I remember loving her. That is all. I would bite and turn her if I saw her."

Jaime sighed heavily and kept plodding forward, letting the boy chase after him.

"Do you miss your sister or your best friend in a different way? Do you still love them?"

"I want to. I remember how it felt and it is slipping away, as if I am going numb. I hate it. I want to feel human, I don't feel that way so much anymore. I do and I don't. I hate being confused like this. I hate having to follow this group into some fucking war that I don't care about."

Rickon skipped in front of Jaime and tilted his head to look up into the man's face.

"I don't care about this battle or the leader either. I only followed Sansa and Theon because I thought I was supposed to. But Styr has too many rules and I don't want to be here. Why do we stay? We are at the end of the march, no one is anywhere near us. Who will care to find us when Styr wants this fight so much? They won't even notice if we left."

"Where would we go, idiot? Two cannibals, one with a golden hand and the other a child?"

"So we make a few more of us and we can go somewhere else. Anywhere else. You want to bite someone on purpose? Or kill someone you don't like? I would like to do something...but not a battle at my old home. Old home is the past and that isn't interesting. I've done my old life already."

Jaime looked down at the boy and smirked.

"You know what? I am starting to go as crazy as you. Because I am going to agree with you. I do have some folks in need of killing, others in need of turning. Let's go find a certain kind of person to bring into our new pack and then we are going to go South."

 

Rickon was right. It took Sansa and Theon a good three more hours before discovering he and Jaime were actually missing. Styr gave it two hours for a search and then gave up. A sullen man and a feral child were of no real use. 

 

Sansa did not take the news from Styr well at all. This was her little brother and she was going to be damned if another sibling just slipped through her fingers. In spite of her demanding shrill protests, Styr insisted the search was over. They would keep moving.

"No. I am going to find my brother and then I will catch up with you. I will take Joff with me for company."

Styr stared at Sansa as if she suddenly sprouted horns and shook his head.

"You are not going to leave without my permission. Which you do not have. You are barely in training, young lady. You'll do as your told and get your ass moving. In the direction I have set. Now."

"I won't. Fine, take Joff if you want and I will catch up with you."

Hissing in embarrassment, Joff grabbed Sansa's shoulder and tried to wrench her forward.

"Stop being such a bitch and let's go! I'm sure that your brother will catch up later and is fine. Come on, move! Sansa, I said to-OW! OW!"

Sansa managed to break two of Joff's fingers before Styr lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"I said we are moving forward. That means we are moving forward, whether you like the order or not." 

Leaving Joff to wail to one of the medical technicians they had with them, Styr marched with the wailing girl over his shoulder. When Sansa refused to stop squirming or swearing to leave as soon as she could, he decided discipline was needed.

Joff caught up while Styr was sitting on a large boulder, using a switch harshly upon Sansa's backside. He made the mistake of laughing and discovered that the cannibal leader could switch both of them at the same time.

 

Later that evening as Sansa's thighs and ass burned, she unwillingly trudged next to a sniveling Joff. 

"I don't think we are right for each other. I made a mistake. I don't want to marry you or breed with you. I need a stronger man."

Theon struggled not to laugh as he walked just behind them. Poor Joff just stared at Sansa open mouthed for a moment then his jaw snapped shut. Insulted, Joff struggled to move faster past Sansa.

"You will regret that decision, you'll be begging me to marry you. I'll make sure of it."

Sansa burst out laughing as if that was the funniest most absurd thing that she has ever heard and Theon softly chuckled as well. This only angered Joff further and he nearly ran to get away from them.

Theon moved forward to take his place next to Sansa.

"If you really want to go after Rickon, I will go with you. But Styr is keeping an eye on you now. We might have to bide our time. Like wait until the first actual battle, then we can escape during the confusion of it all."

"Okay. That sounds like a much better plan than anything I could come up with right now. If it were just you, Theon, I would let you be my mate. But Reek just is too weak and he makes me want to hurt him. It is too confusing. Maybe once we leave and find my brother, I can look for the right man to bite."

Theon already pitied this poor man but he smiled at Sansa encouragingly.


	35. Game Plans

Ramsay and Jon made it back to find a nearly depleted and barely guarded Dreadfort.

"I can't believe this! Your cunt of a mother and that Southern slash stole half of our men...of MY MEN! We have enough to feed and keep us going for maybe a month. Fuck! If we are attacked by just the cannibals that took out your old home we can probably win. But if the Wildlings come, we are fucked, hear me? We will all die. Trust me, anyone here at Dreadfort will die, they won't be turned. Only you have to worry about that."

Ramsay laughed bitterly while Jon stared at him in confusion. What the hell does that mean?

"Why would they only want to turn me, Ramsay? What the hell is wrong with you, with all of you that even cannibals wouldn't want you to join them? Or are you all just that tasty from all those fucking leech treatments."

Jon shuddered with memories and Ramsay shook his head good naturally at Jon.

"You are such a fucking idiot sometimes. I mean really. Has it never once occurred to you what the leeching and all those vitamins were for?"

His back hit the dirty outer wall and Jon knew but didn't really want to. Nope, not at all and so he won't.

"Wasn't my concern and still isn't. We need to stop with your fucking riddle time and talk about defenses or where else we can go for help."

Ramsay chuckled at Jon as the gloomy but nervous sibling went inside the gloomy hall. He followed after Jon and found himself enjoying the game. Ramsay wanted to force Jon to be the one to say it, to believe it and acknowledge it.

"I want you to see Qyburn, he should examine us both before we attempt any fighting or running. Just take that left right there, no left, right! No I mean right it's the left...god, you are so stupid. GO THAT WAY! YUP! Now, down the stairs, I'm right behind you so don't trip, I'll be tempted to add to the momentum. Sometimes, I get these urges...I mean, I have always been a sadist, but without my treatments, its harder to resist. Want to know why that is, Jon? Hmmm? Don't go so fast, you might really fall! Jon? Ouch, that must have hurt."

 

Alyn has never been so happy to see Ramsay Bolton in his entire life. He slammed himself against the bars of the small cage and begged for his release.

"Why the hell is Alyn in one of your hell baskets? Did father blame him for my kidnapping? Poor buddy, don't worry, Alyn, I'll get you out of there."

Qyburn shrugged.

"Your father was angry and threw the man into a cell. But he left those deadly harpies and they decided I should use Alyn. They brought me a dying cannibal to bite him with. I wanted them to leave and it was the only way to make them go. However, it was useful. Just like with Sansa, the cannibal can be provoked by another bite. Alyn did indeed go into his full blood lust and nearly tore himself apart in spite of restraints. It took a bit of trial and error but I was able to bring him back to his senses. I had kept that Targaryen drug I had been given to test way back and I made Alyn take it. Sure enough, he went full cannibal in less than an hour. It took me only a week to bring him back from it. I am on to something, Ramsay! I am almost there, can't you see that?"

Ramsay smiled at the jubilant lunatic and tried to decide if Qyburn was going to be someone he can control.

"Here is the thing, Qyburn. I don't want you to use MY resources to find a cure for the infection. I want you to produce a way to CONTROL the infection. Say, like how I am right now. How my father was. But I want it in a better form than fucking leeches, cutting and the pills. All of it in a pill, in a shot, in a liquid or some fucking way we can use. This isn't going to be the end of the North, we can contain and control it. And I can lead us all into a new era. That is what I want, Qyburn. So...can I trust you to use my resources for what I want while I am away? Or should I kill you now...or just leave you outside my walls?"

Qyburn smiled and looked at Ramsay, calmly and without any emotion in his eyes.

"If you leave me here the turned Wildlings will overtake Dreadfort and kill me anyway. So does it matter anymore? Using your resources? No. It was your father's resources I was using at his request. I have no problem with changing my tactics, Ramsay. It would be easier to find a control than to actually cure it. But I won't accept threats from you. I told your father the very same thing if you recall. I don't work well with that kind of pressure on me. So...if you wish for my assistance then you need to provide for my safety and other needs while I do my research. And I must be provided subjects, if you take Alyn, you need to give me another."

 

Jon was staring from the poor man in the swinging cage to the deranged doctor. And he was trying very hard to deny anything he is hearing. He knows though. Sansa was not the only person with a controlled infection.

The hellish vacations always left questions that Jon never wanted to examine. He saw now that in a deep dark place, he always knew that something very wrong was happening at Dreadfort.

"How long? How long were you all..?"

Ramsay turned to Jon and smirked.

"Oh Jon...I almost forgot you were there. How is your backside? Those stairs are pretty hard and steep. How long? How long what, Jon?"

Qyburn sighed deeply at the stupid boys and he went to unlock Alyn's cage.

"You were...are...like Sansa. Right? Infected but controlled? For how long?"

"My father came back from the war with the infection and cheerily brought us along for the ride! Wasn't that nice of him? He made us all into controlled beasts. Qyburn saved my father from being a cannibal then they did the same for all of us at Dreadfort. Jon, look how fast that all spread? Everyone is going to fall this time. But we can control this and keep the world from descending into mindless chaos. Qyburn knows how to control it. Granted, his methods are not pleasant and not fast enough but it is all we have right now. He is almost onto a good medication instead of torture...I hope. Jon, every time you were here, I wanted to kill you and yet I never did. Father wanted to turn you in the worst way and yet, he controlled himself. We are living proof that it can be done."

 

Alyn moaned as he hit the ground and then he weakly swung at the doctor.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

This echoed through the whole stone basement as Alyn and Jon yelled it in unison. Qyburn simply snorted and walked away from Alyn. Ramsay kept walking towards Jon but slower now, his arms spread to show no weapons.

As if that somehow would make Jon feel safer. Most of the beat downs Jon and Theon received from Ramsay during vacations didn't involve weapons. Jon kept moving away and he pulled a scalpel from one of Qyburn's counters.

"Jon, calm down. Are you going to perform surgery on me? Don't you think I am handsome enough?"

"I won't let you turn me! Get the hell away or I swear I will cut you, kill you if I have to!"

"Jon...Jon, you aren't thinking clearly. I thought you only hit your ass on the way down the stairs, not your head. Or are your luscious black locks keeping your ears from hearing me? Listen, everyone here, EVERYONE, is infected but controlled. Outside of Dreadfort, it's all cannibals. In here at least we can help save you from the fate of those outside. See? It isn't that bad, Jon. I'll even let you choose where I make the bite and I promise not too go any deeper than I have to. Trust me, Jon. I am all you have left now."

Qyburn snatched a sedative and prepared a syringe which Jon caught out of the corner of his eye.

"Old man, if you try and stick me, I swear I will slit your throat! Both of you stay away from me!"

Ramsay shook his head and giggled at the panicked man.

"Jon, it's just something to calm you, make you sleep. You might want it rather than feel me bite you. See how accommodating I am trying to be for you? We are trying to make this as easy and painless as we can. As safe as we can. I need you to offer just a little cooperation since gratitude seems beyond you."

"Uh, Ramsay? Is that the alarm bell?"

 

Ramsay frowned at both Alyn's weak voice and the clashing of bells.

"Fuck. Looks like your turning will get to wait after all, Jon. I think the Wildlings are here and it's time for a different plan. Another escape must happen before anything else."

Jon breathed a sigh of relief but then squawked as Ramsay suddenly had his wrist in a crushing grip. It took everything not to drop the scalpel. Ramsay gnashed his teeth in Jon's face and growled with challenge.

"Try to defy me once or run away from me and I swear I will bite you and make sure you feel every second of all of it. I will make sure Qyburn treats you slow so you may feel every single torment. Do you understand me, brother?"

"Yes. I won't defy or run. Now get off me."

"Try asking nicely."

Jon's voice was harsh and every word was nearly spit out against his will.

"Please let go of me, Ramsay."

"Better. Not as good as I'd like but we are going to get there. Now help Alyn pack whatever shit Qyburn needs and can travel fast."

Jon was flung halfway across the room but he kept silent and went to help the weakened man leaning against a wall while packing test tubes. He flinched whenever any of them got too close but Jon continued to act sullen and mutinous as he did the bare minimum.

There was no way in hell he was about to admit that Ramsay had cowed him or that he needed them in order to escape. But Jon was smart enough to see that he had to admit it to himself. He was sacrificing his freedom for his very life.

Soon enough though, Ramsay would try and bite him or someone would. Jon would obey until they got away from the cannibals then he was taking the first chance to run. If he died in the attempt it might be a better fate.

Dreadfort was swarmed by the cannibals still dressed in Wildling gear but the basement lab was empty. The trapdoor that led to an escape tunnel was well hidden.


	36. Women Are A Preexisting Condition.

They cut a swath of blood and guts through the North towards the Riverlands.

Guns, knives, sharp sticks, a few grenades and a good amount of fire were their weapons. Their endless energy and urge to destroy was fueled by their demented need to find their children.

It was all Cat and Cersei had left to hold onto besides each other. And they both felt that could be the worst tragedy of all. They fight back to back, they sleep entwined for warmth and they share their supplies equally.

On a few drunken nights in well concealed hiding places, they have even had savage clumsy sexual pleasure from one another. And both dream of slitting the others throat in their sleep.

But their focus, their main goals and their talents have always fit so well even as they have always hated each other. Years ago they were forced to be a team to get their lands, husbands and lives.

They were at the end of their worlds, they had to rely on each other while the men were gone.

Now at the end of their worlds again, their men and children gone, they are a team as if some horrific fate to be constantly played out.

 

Luck came as they were nearly out of the North. During their latest slaughter, they caught a cannibal scout. He fell into one of their traps and was impaled upon spikes in a pit, but not dead. Only wounded and very weakened.

This wasn't one of the newer more bestial ones. No, this was an older cannibal, he was dressed for hunting, he was able to think and speak clearly and control himself.

And it took Cersei and Cat nearly twenty four hours of torture before the creature broke.

The hardened soldiers following them found themselves wincing in unwilling sympathy for the poor fuck. Just the thought of being in the clutches of those cold bitches, it made them all drink heavily that night.

No eyelids, no fingers or toes left. No left hand anymore and the scout broke when the women started to grimly prepare to castrate him.

The stripped man was liberally covered in bruises, cuts and burns. But he bore no marks upon his jaw or mouth, he had all his sharpened teeth.

His vocal chords, his throat were untouched and he was given water so his voice would work just fine.

Cat and Cersei discovered that he was from a large tribe that was led by Styr. Cat knew who the infamous cannibal leader was, her family helped lead the North in banishing them further out.

The scout told them that Styr was heading to seize control of the new cannibals that have taken down the civilized areas. And he told them of the newcomers to their group.

 

"Not just my Joff, but my brother Jaime is alive! And we are so close to them now! And your Sansa and the little boy! I am shaking at how excited I am over how close we are!"

Cersei had to nearly yell to Cat as the cannibal was screaming loudly, even through the gag. Cat nodded back, feeling the same and gave the smallest smirk to her.

Grunting with effort, Cersei managed to get the tied but frantically struggling man to hold his arm still enough for Cat to bring the axe down. After they cut off the other hand and cauterized it, the cannibal had gone out cold.

While he was unconscious, the women ripped out all his teeth with pliers. He woke halfway through but the pain dragged him senseless again. The next morning, the woman forced the disfigured cannibal to lead them towards his tribe.

He was restrained by a chain wrapped several times around his neck. The man would die of his many wounds but the women only needed him long enough to find the tribe. So they made him walk in front of the horses, Cersei with an iron grip upon his chain leash.

The monsters were too merciless and terrifying for the wounded cannibal to dare defy any longer. He already knew he would die at their hands but how badly it had to be might depend on his actions now. So with a grieved but cowed heart, the man took them towards Styr and the tribe.

When they were close enough that the women could hear faint voices and movement, they gave mercy to the cannibal. Cat grimly slit his throat while the man stood still, ready to die. Cersei helped Cat conceal the body before they moved onward.

 

In spite of how frantic they were to reunite and heal their children, Cat and Cersei had to be patient, cautious. Some of these cannibals had years of experience in hunting human prey. And the newer ones have no control, no real reasoning to them.

Both kinds were bad to run into before the ladies were ready to announce themselves. They had to carefully go around them and try to see how many there were. Find the children and the right moment to grab them.

"My brother might be infected but I know he will always obey me. Joff and Sansa might not be able to, I am sure your little boy won't understand anything...but Jaime is mine regardless of being turned or not. If we can get his attention he will aid us, I know it. He will want a cure, a halt to the infection. Trust me, I know my brother and how he thinks more than anyone else ever could."

Cat was dubious on this point but allowed Cersei her delusion.

 

The gasp from Cersei made Cat tear away from her thoughts to stare at the woman.

"I see them! Oh gods, Cat! I see them! Joff and Sansa! I can see them! I don't see Jaime."

Nearly ripping Cersei's fingers off, Cat took the binoculars to blink tears away at the sight of her oldest daughter. Sansa looked different, not just in appearance but just the way she moved, those eyes. But it doesn't matter, once they bring her to Qyburn all will be well.

"Where is Rickon? I don't see my little boy or your brother. Oh no, my little Rickon, I hope he wasn't hurt or...."

"Don't think that way, you know better than that. Put your emotions away, you need to focus. And if you crack one more of my fingernails like that, I'm going to give your nose a new look."

 

It was hastily but as carefully as possible planned out with the men. Cersei and Cat drove the men to create traps as quickly as they could in the pathway of the oncoming cannibals.

While the cannibals had made their camp to rest, the women and their overly stressed followers worked. The ladies went over their plans over and over again. They went over it again and again with the men.

 

They were dead tired and wired all at once. All of them in position, ready to take on a cannibal tribe three times their size. Yet not a single man dared to defect, the fate the women would offer was worse than being turned or eaten.

The first wave of cannibals triggered it off. Three fell into a spiked pit, two were snagged by nets and machine guns mowed down the squirming, trapped creatures.

Styr gave a guttural but loud sound and weapons were drawn. That is when the grenades hit the ground, three in a row. The leader was standing, swaying and half deaf as his people's limbs were scattered around nearby.  

More than half their tribe was still able to fight and they did. Arrows and bullets flew and within the chaos came the mothers, fierce and determined.

 

Cat swore bitterly in her head when the first one they found was Joff. He was giggling maniacally while stabbing and eating through one of the men. Cersei had the sedative already in her hand and slipped up behind the boy.

She managed to plunge it into his neck just as Joff turned and he snarled in rage at the sudden jolt of pain. His teeth were nearly on her nose, foam dripping onto her face when he went slack.

Pulling the boy off Cersei, Cat quickly tied the boys hands behind his back and muzzled him. The drug that Qyburn gave them was enough to make a cannibal compliant or at least too drugged to truly resist.

However, it wasn't a long acting medication and there wasn't very much of it. So they had no time to waste. As planned out earlier, they carried the moaning boy towards a scarred tree.

There was a man there, just waiting on a horse. There were two more men with horses waiting for the others.

"Here, be careful with him! Take him back to the cave we found, hurry! Make sure that you securely restrain him before he fully wakes up in an hour. Go!"

"Cersei, look, I see Sansa! Give me a syringe, hurry, let's go! Joff will be fine, hurry!"

Cat pulled Cersei along and they skirted the fighting, only killing a few cannibals that saw them before they reached the girl.

 

Except Sansa saw them first.

"Oh mother! And Cersei! How lovely that you came right to us! Was it to save us, how thoughtful of you! I have a better idea...why don't you just join us instead. Trust me, Joff still needs his mother and I need you to help me find Rickon and Arya. The little brats keep slipping away from me."

Cat's steely eyes seemed to shine with suppressed tears and her voice was thick with emotion.

"No sweetheart. I need you to come home and see Qyburn, he can help you. We already have Joff and we can help both of you. Remember the plans you had? We can make those happen now, just let me help you, listen to your mother, Sansa."

Sansa rolled her eyes and gave a very dramatic sigh while shrugging her shoulders.

"Of course Joff was taken so easily. He really isn't more than a sadistic little boy now. Maybe you should let Qyburn work on him, maybe Joff will get his gumption back. Cannibalism seems rough for him."

Sansa gave a little giggle as Cersei's face turned to stone.

"My son is ill. You are sick too. Now stop being a little stubborn cunt and listen to your mother or I will personally break your legs to drag you away. We are taking you both to Qyburn whether you wish it or not."

"Really? Try it."

Cat was filled with desperation and Cersei was full of anger but Sansa was full of sweet savage joy as they clashed.


	37. Stages Of A New Relationship

Jon felt like they had been in those slimy tunnels for days. It felt wonderful to breathe fresh air and see real sunlight. Ramsay led them forward and they found a heap of tree debris that was hiding an emergency vehicle.

Ramsay and his boys had worked on this in their spare time for years in hopes of the day they might escape Roose. Or if ever an attack did happen like it has. Jon whistled at the sight of the former long school bus now transformed into an armored metal force.

It had cages over the windows but had small holes for shooting back. Armored and spiked everywhere, guns loaded upon the roof and the back exit of the bus. He was impressed. 

The inside had been redone with small cots and few seats and a bolted table. There was plenty of empty space to maneuver but Qyburn grumbled anyway. This was no lab but it will have to do until they can find a safer location.

Even as Ramsay was peeling out and they flew down the empty road, heading towards the Riverlands, the creepy doctor was staggering around yelling orders to the two slumped men. They dozed rather than help the angry scientist set up his instruments of torture.

 

That night they parked the bus in an old cornfield, out of sight. In the far distance, fires still burned and the wind carried faint scents and sounds they tried to ignore. Using a hot plate, Ramsay made them all stew that they had with stale bread.

They discussed their plans and listened to Qyburn's numerous complaints while they ate. Ramsay turned to Jon who was sitting next to him and asked mildly,

"Are you going to eat that?"

Jon looked at his small piece of bread left in his hand and then at Ramsay.

"Clearly, if it in my hand, then I'm going to eat it."

Ramsay grinned and shook his head.

"No silly, I meant that."

Jon had no real time to understand or react until Ramsay already had his other hand in his mouth. He cried out as teeth sunk through the palm of his hand.

 

Dropping the bread, Jon tried to punch Ramsay in the head.

Alyn reached over the small table and caught Jon's fist, yanking his arm back and twisting it.

"Stop or I'll break it."

Jon hollered in frustration but stayed still. Ramsay lifted his head and gave his brother a happy, warm crimson smile.

"See, it wasn't that bad, you baby. All that fuss for nothing. I'm sorry, Jon but we don't have the luxury of waiting until you come around to the idea of being one of us. We are safe enough on this road, all the action is heading into the North, not out of it. We are going to help you through the bad part. I'll stay with you the whole time and soon you'll see things my way."

Alyn gave a Jon a look of sympathy as he kept him restrained while Qyburn prepared a syringe and Ramsay began to set up a cage.

"Sorry, buddy. This is really the fucking worst part and I've had to do it way more than just the once. But once Ramsay and Qyburn get you to control it...it will be easier. You are still the same person, Jon. Just...you feel different but it's better, more powerful in some ways...you'll see."

Qyburn slipped a needle into Jon's neck and he saw nothing for some time.

 

Alyn was right, it was pure hell.

Red thrashing thoughts, a desperate hunger and rage came first. Jon frothed at the mouth and tore at the bars of the cage, snarling and howling.

He wanted to eat Ramsay's fucking smiling face that kept speaking so calmly but mockingly. He wanted to rip apart the old sadistic bastard that kept stealing his blood and not giving any back to drink.

 

Jon yanked hard on chains that kept him against a chair while he was given small amounts of broth. He tried threatening, begging and cajoling but he could not gain freedom nor the taste of human flesh.

"I have already explained this to you, Jon. Eating us is not happening. Besides, we are like you, you can't eat us. You could try and kill us, but you don't eat your own kind. It just isn't done, dearest brother. Now if you don't let me feed you this broth I am going to have Qyburn use a feeding tube on you. It goes right up the nose. I had to have it used on me when I first turned and Alyn has suffered it a few times now. We can both assure you it is not pleasant."

"Why don't you let me hunt then? Please? I'll drink your broth if you let me hunt! Ramsay? Where are you going? No! NO! WAIT, NO, I WILL DRINK THE BROTH! RAMSAY, PLEASE!!"

As the tube was forced up Jon's nose, Ramsay lovingly held the sweaty, struggling head still and he admonished him gently.

"I warned you before, Jon. I don't like to repeat myself. Next time I tell you something will happen, believe me and obey. Try and swallow, it will make it go a little easier. Are you crying, Jon? Poor stupid baby, I told you it wouldn't be pleasant. Hurts like fuck, doesn't it?"

 

"Jon? Can you hear me? Are you feeling up to sitting up and talking with me yet? Huh?"

Groaning, Jon rolled over and the bulky feeling of the board and bandages to keep the IV in his ankle fully woke him. Jon sat up fast and scuttled backwards, snarling.

"Get away! Kill you! Don't touch me!"

As he tried to fuzzily see the danger, Jon heard a low chuckle.

"Calm down, Jon. You are safe. Just us infected here. Like you. Except we are controlled. Are you feeling in control, Jon?"

Jon blinked and focused on Ramsay crouched near the rubber floor mat that has become Jon's bed. He remembered Qyburn muttering that this was the third stage and that his progress was the fastest he has seen yet.

The chain that was connected to Jon's other ankle rattled as he tried to sit up in the middle of the mat.

"I...can I have some water?"

Ramsay beamed and got Jon a bottle of water. He extended his hand but his eyes watched sharply every move Jon made. Jon was careful to not snatch the bottle fast like he has before. It always makes Ramsay call him rude and take it away, telling him the IV gives him enough fluids.

When Jon took the bottle nicely and even thanked his tormentor, Ramsay nodded with approval.

"You are truly doing so well, Jon. It's only been a week and you are already able to act civil. Good. The next step is harder. Up until now, we have controlled you mostly through treatments, restraints and cages. Now we are going to take away the cages and restraints. And teach you how to control yourself. You will continue all the medication and treatments but you'll learn to do it without being made to."

 

Ramsay and Alyn stood before Jon, who had gone into a crouched stance when he saw them coming towards him with weapons. A staff in Ramsay's hand and a strap in Alyn's. 

"Relax, Jon. We aren't going to beat you while you are chained to the floor. No, we carry these for our own protection and for your teaching. Remember I told you last night that today we were releasing you? Well, this is it, brother of mine! Aren't you happy? Still frowning. Alyn, I swear this brother of mine really should have been named Gloomy Gus or Brooding Bryon, rather than Jon."

Jon flushed as Alyn and Ramsay laughed a bit and he tried to go into a relaxed sitting position.

"Sorry. But my experience with you two makes me leery of you with weapons near me. Stop making fun of me and tell me what comes next. I want to get out of these chains."

"You are so sensitive, even now. Wow. That really is something. I have always wondered if in a different world you might have been an artist or something like a poet. That is hope right there for the future of the arts, Alyn! Well, that should cheer you up, Jon! Hey, are you aware that you are snarling at us? And digging your fingernails into the mat? I need you to calm down before I can release your chain, Jon."

"Then you should stop provoking me, you motherfucking, cuntlicking-"

Jon managed to choke it off and curl into a ball, panting.

"Yep. See, that is what I am talking about. The beast is gonna try and find it's way out anyway it can. I want you to think of something, Jon. I have spent years provoking you, since childhood actually. And in much worse ways with way more boys. Remember those times and ask yourself if you EVER reacted that way when I provoked you? Would you have used those words? Would you have nearly broken your own fingers in rage? Would you have snarled and drooled like an animal at me?"

"I would have stood up to you, tried to kick your ass anyway..."

"Yes. And lose. However, you never acted the way you just did. Did you? Can you remember a time you ever acted or spoke like that? Or felt that angry over a little bit of teasing?"

He tried to think through the swirling red and Jon finally shook his head.

"No. I never was like that. I don't want to be that way, this way. It's not me. I didn't even feel it change!"

"It's okay, don't freak out. We will teach you to keep it under control, teach you to feel it coming on. You won't stay this way, I promise. You are my brother, I won't let you get hurt by anyone but me. Well, maybe Alyn and Qyburn might hurt you but only at my commands to do so. And once you are better, they won't need to hurt you."

 

Ramsay leaned down over Jon and played his hand through the sweaty tousled hair.

"That was a real good try, I am real proud of you. We will try again later this afternoon, Jon. I want you to practice your calming breaths that Qyburn taught you. If you can calm down, this afternoon we can try it. If you don't do your breathing like I ask then I won't let you try until tomorrow. Your ankle must be really sore from that chain, my poor brother. So what do you say, Jon? Can you do your breathing and stay calm for me?"

Jon wanted to gnash his teeth and try to attack Ramsay. He wanted to so badly he could taste it. But he wanted out of the fucking chain more. And his nose and throat burned in his mind through the red swirl.

"Yes. I will breathe. Calm down, I am calming down."

His voice was harsh, grunting, nearly out of control but the words were clear. He began attempting the deep breaths in his nose and out of his mouth.

"Good choice, Jon. Very good. Okay, I am going to leave you alone and I want you to try and rest. Relax and breathe. And we shall try this afternoon, I swear it."

 

That afternoon, Ramsay and Alyn gave it another try after they all had lunch.

Jon had calmly sat up and ate a sandwich, drank a bottle of water without any complaint. He didn't speak at all unless he had to as if to show he was the sheer essence of calm human demeanor.

That made the three men grin and give each other amused glances. Once the cannibal's thinking processes are restored, whether naturally or forced by Qyburn's medication, they first use it on their prey.

Once they begin to understand that they must use more than bestial urge to attack and hunt, they try to parody the memories of emotions they had. The true emotions are muted but still recalled enough to usually trick a normal for some time.

It takes them time to learn everything, such as, it doesn't work on other cannibals. And they usually can't keep it up for extreme lengths of time. This was an amusing stage for other infected to observe.

Ramsay finished his sandwich and grinned widely at Jon.

"Gee, you really do look so much better! Are you feeling better, clearer? You are certainly very calm."

"Yes, I am feeling pretty good. And the food was good, I didn't want to spit it out. I didn't have to pretend it was meat to eat it."

Qyburn sharply observed this and made a note of it, seeing the honesty of it in the boy's eyes.

"That is excellent, young man. The peanut butter sandwich tasted good on it's own? That is a very positive sign! However, when you say you feel pretty good...I feel you might be a bit deceptive. You are very calm, shouldn't you be feeling a little excited to be out of the chain soon?"

Jon glared at Qyburn for a second but then his features smoothed out and he responded with slow careful words.

"I am being very calm because I was told to be in order to get out of the chain. I don't wish to set myself off by feeling excitement. But yes, I really am wanting to get out of the chain and start acting like a person again."

"Ah, I see. And you don't feel any urge to attack us at all? You don't feel angry or tense? Do you still see the swirling redness?|"

Beads of sweat appeared on Jon's brow but he shook his head.

"No. I just want out of my chain, please."

Alyn and Ramsay turned to join the doctor in prodding at the acting cannibal.

"Oh no, Jon, you look a little sweaty. Are you feeling up to this today? You aren't panting, are you?"

Moaning, Jon forced his body into laying down upon the mat and breathing deeply.

"Nice work. Now that is learning. You saw it coming on this time. I want you to breathe for a moment and then we will try to unchain you. I am amazed at well you are doing, Jon. I really am."

 

Jon managed to calm himself within moments and Ramsay stepped over to the chain.

"Are you ready, Jon?"

"Yes, please."

With a shark smile, Ramsay bent down and made it sound like he released the chain. Jon flew to attack him and Alyn beat him with the stick  until he cowered low. 

"Still a good try, Jon. But you cannot pretend with us. We can see through the fake charms. We will try again tomorrow morning."

 


	38. Mothers From Hell

Styr turned, covered in blood and gore, at the sound of guttural female shrieking.

He stood and watched for a moment at the savage grace of it. Sansa's red hair whipped around, her delicate porcelain features sporting a blood smeared, wolfish snarl. The two older women looked as fierce and beautiful in their determination.

Sansa was irritating, destructive and not yet trained or useful to the tribe. Styr also feels she will attempt to challenge him someday. Yet, she was part of his tribe now and he cannot allow these women to take her away.

At first, Styr was content to watch the battle, after all, dying in battle is honorable, its the circle of life. But these women weren't trying to kill Sansa, he went forward when he saw they were trying to sedate and restrain her.

 

It took all of Cat's strength to keep her daughter's teeth from her face. Foam dripped into her eyes and she growled for Cersei to hurry up with the fucking needle. That made Sansa slam her head backwards into Cersei's face as the woman went to inject her neck.

Cersei staggered back, blood gushing from her crooked nose. Cat took advantage of Sansa's movement upwards to grab a rock from the ground, hoping to knock her out cold. Too late, Cat saw the large cannibal come up behind Cersei.

Cat had cried out a warning anyway but Cersei wasn't quick enough to evade the man. Instead she turned and tried to plunge the needle into the man's chest. Styr cried out and backhanded Cersei away before pulling the needle out.

 

Sansa had seen Cat's movement out of the corner of her eye. When the rock came for her temple, Sansa moved fast enough so it glanced off her jaw.

"OUCH! That really hurt, mother! I cannot believe you just hit your own child with a rock! I think you need one FUCK of a time out!"

Cat screamed when Sansa darted down to rip out her mother's throat. And Cat's blade was ready to plunge, she had to defend herself and kill her own daughter.

 

Styr growled at the golden haired bitch even as he admired her rock hard body and deadly features. He suddenly recognized her and barked out a rough laugh.

"Joff's mother! I should have guessed when the little shit wasn't flapping his arms in circles around Sansa. Did you already stash him somewhere, bitch? Tell me where he is and I won't make you his dinner tonight. Won't have your boy eat your breasts that gave him milk, it'll be a quick dignified end. How about that?"

Cersei stood up unsteadily and hawked snot and blood from her mouth. Her nose continued to bleed sluggishly.

"Fuck you. It's too late. I've already sent Joff off. We have a way to halt the infection! We will have a cure soon too! I won't jeopardize my son or a chance to save the world for a quick dignified death."

 

Cat's fist was high now, the blade clutched well and it was so familiar to her hand. It would arc down smoothly and plunge into the back of Sansa's skull. She has done it countless times now.

But the blade did not come down, even when Sansa's teeth began to tear at Cat's throat. She screamed, flailed then stilled and gurgled. Cat couldn't kill her child but she could be glad that her daughter didn't make her live either.

 

Cersei crouched and began to circle Styr, holding her last well used blade. The large man chuckled and hefted his axe.

"Lady, I heard all about your cures and treatments from Joff and Sansa. I heard all about the crazy doctor who wants to save everyone from the girl and the radio. I don't give a fuck about it. Do I look like I want to be cured? This is a new world, dear. It's going to be an eat or be eaten kind of world. I'm going to start hacking limbs and when you feel like telling me where to go get Joff, I'll stop."

Styr started to lunge and swing, Cersei ducked and rolled, crashing into Sansa, who had just stood up. Sighing, Styr tried to kick at the tangle of limbs, unable to be sure his swing would only catch Cersei.

A bellow from behind him and then Styr saw Theon rush past him to attack the jumble of limbs.

"Of course. Now you show up. Just in time for screwing it all up more. Did the Northern folk start inbreeding and make you all stupid or what?"

Now the tangle of limbs was bigger and more confused. Deciding to let Theon and Sansa handle the mother from hell, Styr stormed off to bellow orders.

 

The fight was over and it was harder to pull the feeding cannibals off the raw meat.

Grabbing a few that were still high with adrenaline, Styr ordered them to find Joff and bring him back. He was nearly positive they would bring him to those fucking Boltons. That is where the crazy scientist was last he had heard on the radio.

Styr started to head back when he heard the scuffle growing worse instead of ending. How hard can it be for two predators to kill another predator?

 

In both shock and pain, Sansa screamed.

"SHE BIT ME! FUCKING BIT ME! THAT IS NO WAY FOR A MOTHER TO ACT! AND WE BITE YOU! YOU HAVE THIS ALL WRONG, MRS LANNISTER!"

The surprise of it caused Theon to tumble into Reek, who jumped away from Cersei. Not only has she managed to stab both of them in several minor places, now the deranged woman was biting them both!

Cersei's face looked more like a crazed beast than either of the cannibals and it was truly intimidating. She managed to slam her fist into Sansa's throat and knock her down again.

"You need to stop this! You bit my face and now you hit my jaw plus my mother hit me with a rock! Do you know how long this will take to heal? How do you think Joff or anyone will want to marry me if my face is destroyed?"

Wildly laughing, Cersei grabbed the red hair and began to slam her head into the ground. With every strike, she grunted out her words.

"The. Wedding. Is. Off. Die. Bitch."

Theon surged up and knocked Cersei off of Sansa only to recieve a punch that nearly sent him reeling. The next blow cracked up into his chin and Reek made them roll off the woman.

 

Styr stood over Theon and Sansa and spit on the ground in disgust.

"And she escaped. You two are the most incompetence things, second only to Joff. And boy, you should know better! You have fought before! What happened, did that cringing little personality switch happen? I swear, I'm going to have to beat it out of you. I want you two to get the fuck up and patch yourselves. Then get some supplies and weapons. You will go after that woman and kill her. You will bring me back her head and apologies for being stupid here today. She is heading towards the Bolton estate. I best not make it with my army to the estates to find you haven't killed her yet. Or I swear I will banish both of you. Hear me? Now Go!"

 

Tears scalded her cheeks and Cersei choked on her own blood even while still tasting the cannibal blood in her mouth. She laughed crazily as she urged her horse faster. It was still so funny how upset the cannibals got over her biting them.

She followed the same path the rider would have taken to bring her son to Dreadfort and prayed that Joff makes it there. Dozing on the horse, it plodded slightly off course and she woke up at the slower, bumpier pace.

Cersei allowed the horse to rest while she slumped into the soft grass and tried to tend her injuries. Luckily they were all minor enough to be ignored while traveling. If any infections do happen, Qyburn can handle it for her later on.

Stretching, Cersei stood up and that is when she saw an odd thing laying nearby. Her walk was very slow towards the man laying in the dirt. His insides were splayed for all to see and his glazed eyes stared into the sky.

It was the same man who Cersei had given Joff too. Her scream of rage and loss echoed through the forest and caused her own horse to bolt.

 

"Uh...Styr...should we...I mean, I have never seen..."

Styr turned impatiently at the stammering man then his eyes widened at the sight they were all staring at.  He slowly went closer and bent down, his voice soft with horror and interest.

"Darling, are you still in there?"

The skin was grey, the throat was exposed but a grisly buzzing sound came out of it. Cat's eyes were burning, aware and so full of hatred. Her mouth bubbled with bloody foam and her hands have formed into claws that twitched with need.

 


	39. Bite Me, Bitch.

 The war bus had been merrily on its way when a tire blew out. They were hot and tired anyway. Ramsay thought about making Jon change the tire but the kid has really been trying, doing really well too.

Even Qyburn was impressed, with Jon's mental and physical progress, it was the fastest he has ever seen so far. Therefore, he kept testing Jon and Ramsay did as well until Jon tensed whenever either of them came close.

Each setback was minor and fixable. The first time Jon was allowed to eat meat he was triggered. Ramsay and Alyn's physical punishments were enough to bring him fully under control.

It wasn't so easy the first time Jon was allowed to hunt an animal. He slaughtered small game, then a deer and when Ramsay tried to reel him in, Jon bolted. He managed to knock down Alyn and almost fracture his skull before Ramsay caught him.

Qyburn had to use leeches, sedatives and the newly formed pill, before Jon came out of it.

 

Since then Jon hasn't lost his control and has been obedient to Ramsay for the most part. He was still a sullen, arrogant little ass hat, tossing insults and staring gloomily into the distance.

But if Ramsay told Jon to do something, he will do it. Jon has a few less toenails, he has gained minor fractures and deep bruises to show for his lessons. That was nothing compared to the games, tricks, tests and mental abuse both Ramsay and Qyburn have used on him.

So Jon learned the only way to earn a bit of leeway or mercy from the relentless attacks was to submit. Submit to the learning of control, to learning what would please Ramsay. Jon knew Qyburn only could do as much as Ramsay allowed.

His first goal in life was to get the fucking nutcase doctor off him. The second was to figure out how to extract himself from Ramsay. Throwing himself into the dedication of getting control of his beast had pleased Ramsay.

"Ramsay, please make Qyburn stop poking and draining me so much. I always feel so weak and queasy...it's hard to learn this way. I have made a lot of progress, you said so yourself. Please, brother?"

To Qyburn's great dismay and Jon's elated relief, Ramsay agreed that he needed less testing, only things that are needed for daily control.

 

As much as Jon wanted to move on to step two of getting away from Ramsay, he couldn't think of it just yet. He has not been near any non infected humans or even others besides his companions.

Jon knew he would lose control and then he would be a ravaging beast again. If he is on his own without knowing how to halt that, he will be a full cannibal. He needed to wait until Ramsay has taught him as much as he can.

So when Ramsay allowed him to stretch and walk unattended while the tire was changed, Jon didn't attempt to bolt. Instead he just let his face soak up the sunlight and he enjoyed the fresh air.

Then his nostrils flared and he found himself salivating and growling deep in his throat. Jon tried to pull it back as he stiffened like a predator, stalking forward, stiff legs, head tilted.

"Ramsay! I smell...flesh. I don't think...that I..."

 

Dimly, Jon heard Ramsay swear but it was too late, he was already heading into the woods, after the flesh. Jon saw his target as it saw him and they both let out clashing howls.

It wasn't flesh he could eat, Jon could tell and that enraged him so much! HE WAS SO FUCKING HUNGRY AND IF HE CAN'T EAT THE FLESH, HE CAN DRINK THE BLOOD!

Joff was pissed as he was hoping to sneak up and try to steal their bus. It was pure luck to find a spare spike strip left from Styr's last trip down this way.

He would sneak up and use his superior quick strength to kill them all. How dare this idiot destroy his plans by catching on somehow to Joff's superb sneaking skills!

They came together in a bone wincing thud, all teeth, fists and kicks with no plans but to kill this other asshole. Ramsay and Alyn showed up but were at a real loss on how to break up the fight. Alyn was sent back for the cattle prods and a tranquilizer gun.

 

A good hard shock got Jon off Joff and he cringed, growling at a small distance away from his prey now. Ramsay winced looking at the mewling thing. Jon had managed to rip and chew right through most of his face.

No eyes and no tongue left, Ramsay sighed in annoyance and beckoned to Alyn.

"Ask Qyburn to come see what is left, see if he wants him for a lab rat. If not, you can put him out of his misery."

Alyn nodded and looked with pity and revulsion at what was left of Joff before heading for the creepy doctor. He knew just by Qyburn's excited movements that the man would of course want the poor fucked cannibal.

He softly gave an apology to the young man as he carried a now sedated Joff to Qyburn's cursed examination chair.

 

Jon was growling, his fingers digging into the earth, trying to to stop kneeling like a dog. Ramsay's boots came into sight and he made a snarling whimper sound.

"Jon, can you use any words? Can you think and talk, hmmm? You in there, brother?"

"Yes. Sorry. Trying."

Slowly, Ramsay circled Jon and watched silently as Jon tried to pull his breathing into his well known calming technique. 

He said and did nothing until he saw Jon's body start to relax and Jon started to sob a little bit. Then Ramsay crouched down and began to smooth down the sweaty, bloody hair. His voice was very soft and calm.

"Jon, you attacked a cannibal. I am not angry about that. But you attacked without warning, without making sure it was safe. Without my permission which is just as bad. And then you did what? You chewed and ate some of his face, didn't you? What is a rule concerning that? Hmm...let's think about it. Oh yes, we do not eat our own, whether controlled or cannibal."

Jon tensed again but it was not a beast that came forth but a knowledge that a painful punishment was coming for the listed offenses.   

 

Ramsay pushed Jon against a tree and began to remove his belt, planning on a strapping that will leave bruises for a month. Gunshots came from the direction of the bus and they heard Alyn scream.

"Are you fucking kidding me? What now?"

Ramsay pointed at Jon.

"You will stay right there unless I call to you!"

He ran off without waiting for Jon to respond and carefully scouted beyond the trees but the voice that they heard made Jon actually laugh wildly.

"GIVE ME MY SON!"

 

Cersei stood over Alyn who was now bleeding out. She has already shot out the one window that could be reached through the armor, trying to aim for Qyburn's head. 

"Cersei? This is Ramsay Bolton. We aren't cannibals, remember? We did find and pick up Joff because he was really injured. I thought you wanted Qyburn to help him, right? Well, it's what we are doing and here you are murdering my friends? Not very civil of you, dear. I have to wonder if you have an urge to eat some flesh yourself? Your actions aren't what I would call normal, are they?"

The woman stared with fierce crazed eyes towards Ramsay's voice and she swung the gun towards the direction of it.

"You come on over and examine me, Ramsay. Have Qyburn take a look at me and he will tell you I am not a cannibal. No, I am something far fucking worse, sweetheart. I am a mother who has just lost everything and everyone I have known. The last thing I have left is my boy and you won't run off with him! You deserted them, let them all die so you could take the doctor elsewhere! Did you even try to help your father at all? I am going to stay with my son, even if he is too far gone to heal, I don't give a fuck. He is my son, he is MINE!"

"Mrs. Lannister! If you would stop shooting at me, I can try to explain Joff's condition. And yes, at this point, there is very little I can do to save him except use him to learn how to help others! But I can make him very comfortable, he doesn't have to suffer any pain. I can keep the boy sedated and with heavy painkillers, he won't feel a thing."

"You will NOT use my boy as your science experiment! Give him to me!"

 

Ramsay came out and slowly walked forward, his arms spread, showing no weapons. He gave a charming smile but his eyes were as cold as her own. Nodding, Ramsay gestured to Qyburn.

"Cersei is his mother, it is her right. Go get Joff and after you have bandaged him as best that you can, give him to her. Now, Qyburn. We shall find another subject for you. I hope you aren't planning to murder us in cold blood when there are so few of us left, Cersei. We aren't offering you any harm. We do not hunt humans, we only go after the cannibals. Do you still live by that code? Please remember, we found Joff like this, we did not do it. Look at our faces, look at Alyn's and Qyburn's. If we did the damage on Joff, our faces would be covered in gore. Another telling sign is, someone, whoever did it, they...well, they ate some of him. We don't eat each other, Cersei. You know that. It had to have been another cannibal, a new uncontrolled one maybe or an animal. But it was gone and only Joff was lying there. I am truly sorry we could not reach him before he was injured, but it is not our fault. It wasn't Alyn's fault or mine or the doctor's. Please consider that."

When Qyburn carried Joff outside he was limp from sedation and his entire face was covered in bandages. His arm was in a splint and his body bore bruises, cuts and deep blood filled crescents from teeth.

Cersei scanned her poor son's figure and wept, holding him in her arms.

"Oh, my poor boy, what did they do to you? Even the cannibals, they didn't protect or love or care for you. Even they turned on you in the end. Why don't you ever believe me that you need me?"

 

Looking up at Qyburn, who half stood behind Ramsay, Cersei asked for her worst fears to be confirmed.

"How bad is it?"

Clearing his throat nervously, Qyburn replied.

"I'm truly sorry but the boy's face is mostly gone. His eyes and tongue were...consumed. One ear is gone and the other is mangled. He is deaf, blind and mute. And still a cannibal. Even injured this badly, he would need sedation or restraints, a muzzle or tooth removal because he will attempt to bite you as soon as he is able to. I am not sure how you are going to care for him out there. Most of North has fallen, there is nowhere safe for miles."

Ramsay shrugged and made an attempt at a welcoming smile he did not mean in the least.

"You could join us until we reach a civilized area. Qyburn can see what he can do for Joff with you supervising it. As soon as we find others, you can take your son and join them for more help."

Cersei shook her head and stood up slowly, carrying her grown son as if he were a newborn babe.

"I need another gun, I will trade you for it. I don't have much, but I am sure I can find something. Or do something if need be? I am a fair woman, you gave me my son. I just want to do a quick exchange and be on my way with Joff."

"You can have a gun, the only thing I want in exchange is for you to leave us be. Take your son and your gun and go your own path."

 

"Good boy, Jon! You stayed right where I told you to. Are you feeling much calmer?"

"Yes. What happened? What did Cersei do? I could hear her, did she freak when she saw Joff? Oh no...I did that...I killed her son. She will come for me now. And she will kill me or I will rip her apart and she is a normal female..."

"Uh, uh...don't start getting all excited again. Cersei has left, she took Joff and a gun. After she scared the shit out of Qyburn, blew out a window and killed Alyn. I didn't tell her about you, I told her that we found him that way. She took him and left, Jon. It's over. Well, all but your punishment. But that will have to wait until we are back on the road. Qyburn can drive for a bit while I deal with you. Let's go, I want to be long gone from that sociopath carrying a half dead kid."

"Alyn's dead? I liked him more than either of you! Damn it. You can't punish me too badly, Ramsay! If Alyn is dead, I am the only other person good with fighting and with tracking. If you injure me too much, I won't be useful."

Ramsay barked out a laugh as he gave a shove to Jon, pushing him to move faster.

 

"What you said is true, brother dearest! We cannot destroy this wonderful body of yours! No...this idea is much more effective than a strapping. You are right, Jon! I am SO glad you suggested for me to use a non harmful method to punish you. Isn't this so much better!"

Jon wailed and shuddered wishing he had kept his fucking mouth shut. He must learn to be more careful. There was nothing pleasant about water boarding at all.

"Now that you have finished vomiting and have caught your breath, we shall continue. Round three. We do not eat other infected. You do not attack humans or infected without MY permission. Remember that, let my words resound in your head. Here we go."

Jon desperately wished he had just taken the strapping.


	40. The Old And The New

"We need to find Cersei! Sansa? Sansa, listen to me! Stop fucking around and let's go! Put out the damned fire and get on your fucking horse right now or I swear I will-"

Red hair whipped his face, stinging hard as Sansa turned and her sweet voice did not match the horrific meaty smell she breathed into Theon's offended nostrils. Her stone cold eyes did not seem to fit with her pretty face anymore.

"You will? You will what? Beg me as Reek? Or make another arrogant useless Theon move like try to lift me upon my horse? And how well will that go for you? I keep you with me to fuck, to protect my back and to be part of a great empire that I will lead and you will fight for! If you don't want that, if you want to go back to Styr then by all means...go. Go kill that bitch and bring her head to Styr. And after he thanks you, what happens to Theon and Reek? The only reason half of them didn't beat Theon or rape Reek was because of ME! You are only a predator half the time, that isn't safe. You can never be on your own, your shattered brain makes you...disabled. You need help to remain strong, you need me. Styr and the others aren't going to understand and they won't help you, they will make you their bitch."

Theon snarled in frustration and hurt while Reek only vigorously agreed with everything Sansa had said. 

"Oh, you want to talk about shattered brains, sweetie? How about having the mind of a damned flighty teenager but the savage twisted ambition of a LUNATIC? You are...the meanest, most selfish, cruel and clueless-"

"Well, then it is a lunatic teenager leading a half man-half child! Listen, we are not far off from the path down towards Dreadfort...we heard that Ramsay and Jon were there with Qyburn but escaped. We can run into them! A quick bite and I will have my brother's allegiance. After I bite and control Ramsay we will...where are you going? Theon? You wouldn't dare it! Wait, Theon!"

 

Leaving the redhead to scream and stomp her foot, Theon grabbed his pack and galloped his horse the fuck out of there.

Nothing was worth going back to Ramsay, nothing. Reek agreed as strongly as he could. Sansa would never comprehend why Theon and Reek could never challenge Ramsay.

Why they would always be in terror of the man and no matter how Theon would try and resist, Reek will always give in to the terrifying Master. Besides, Sansa was nuts and was bound to cause Theon's misery and death even faster than he will on his own with Reek.

He felt a bit bad leaving Sansa alone to find her followers. Theon had been teaching her to track, hunt, use a knife and a bow and arrow but she wasn't very proficient yet. However, she knew enough to get by along with her supplies for some time.

At the very least, Sansa would last on her own until Styr came by. The tribe would take her back in and Styr would probably just whip her for not getting Cersei. Theon stopped thinking of Sansa and tried to think of himself and where to go.

Theon allowed the horse his own lead for awhile as he tried to decide which way to head.

He is sure that new tribes are already being formed and the non infected left would have fled into the woods. Some would try for caves, rivers, mountains, but most would have panicked and gone straight into the woods.

Perhaps he can just spend some time trying to hunt down runners? Clicking his tongue, Theon turned the horse and headed to cross a nearby road. He wanted to head deeper North, far deeper than where he was now.

That is where most of the survivors would have headed from the former civilized areas.

 

Ramsay honestly couldn't believe his eyes and Jon widened his eyes but also said nothing. They had just come up the small hill and was that truly Theon Greyjoy that just galloped across the road ahead? The horse and man flew into the woods and kept going.

"He didn't even see us. Never even looked before crossing the road. I wonder what he is running from? Whatever it is, it won't catch my boy before I do."

 

Since the Joff incident, Jon has learned to not eat cannibal flesh. However, no amount of berating from Ramsay can stop Jon from drinking their blood. They have caught, tortured and murdered four separate scouts in order to ask the whereabouts of Sansa and Theon.

Jon wasn't like Alyn and had no interest in assisting with torture but Ramsay had no interest in Jon's squeamish complaints either. It remained a bone of contention between the two of them.

Jon would go no further then helping to restrain or question the victims, but when it came time to kill, he was an eager participant. Ramsay hated that Jon knew exactly how far he could push and could recieve.

For the most part, Jon was a loyal and obedient brother and Ramsay had more pressing needs right now. He refused to fully leave the North until he had Reek. Ramsay wanted to claim Sansa as well but Reek was the most important thing.

Qyburn can help Ramsay bring Reek out and perhaps as they control his beast, they can find a way to remove or repress Theon. This has been a discussion they have had quite a few times. Much to Qyburn's annoyance and Jon's disgust.

 

And here after all that fruitless searching, Theon just merrily fucked off across the road as if on some sort of racing field trip. Ramsay started to laugh and then he grabbed Jon's long pretty hair in his fist.

"I am off to fetch our little pet, brother. I want you to keep watch and protect Qyburn and our bus. Do not stray off, do not take a nap or read a book. Keep watch, protect what is ours until I return. Unless you hear me call your name, I don't need you to help me. Stay right here and if you smell or sense anyone, call out to me then kill if you must to protect our things. Do you understand me, Jon?"

"I understand, Ramsay. Why don't you just leave him be? Now that he is a cannibal, it's probably all Theon, no more Reek. And hasn't he suffered enough? I mean, just let it go."

"Did I ask you for an opinion? No? Then shut up before I decide to hurt you before I go after my pet."

"He is a person, not a pet."

Ramsay looked up at the muttered quiet sentence, hands stilled in his backpack.

"Did you say something, Jon? Something you want to repeat to me louder?"

"No, Ramsay. I will keep watch."

"Good."

 

Jon watched Ramsay wrestle his dirt bike out and take off in the direction of Theon. He sighed and shook his head already pitying his poor friend. There is no stopping Ramsay once he gets an idea into his head.

He tightened his grip on the gun as he passed the window with no glass and his nostrils flared. Trying to breathe evenly, he told Qyburn he smelled another. Flesh but not flesh he can eat. 

"Remember to stay calm, Jon. As soon as they come into view, just shoot them. Stay inside the bus and just shoot."

Nodding and wishing Ramsay were here instead, Jon kept his eyes scanning the road. He saw Qyburn moving around from the corner of his eye. Dammit, if he loses control it will be a sedative jammed into him that is worse than Ramsay's best whipping technique.

That was incentive enough for Jon to keep his breathing level and stay relaxed but alert. When the person began to cross the road, Jon gasped. It was in surprise not in blood lust.

 

"Qyburn! It's Sansa! She must be looking for Theon!"

"Don't shoot her! Do not, I need her, we, we need her! Ramsay will want her alive, Jon. We need to get her attention and then we need to catch her. I can sedate her, let her close enough to you so I can do it!"

Jon gave a very suspicious look to the overexcited doctor.

"Ramsay won't let you experiment on her. He wants her as his mate, not as a lab rat. You can't do anymore to her than bring her to my level, hear me? I don't care what you say, I will make sure you never torture her."

Rolling his eyes, Qyburn hid the sedative gun and the extra two syringes, brushing past Jon.

"You are too stupid to understand the power my work has. I don't want to torture the girl, I want to see if I can make her revert as quickly as you. I want to create a technique and a medication to reverse it all. Can't you see the good I am trying to achieve? Bah! Forget it. Go call to Sansa, pretty boy. You might be Ramsay's brother but just remember I have his ear too. You do not wish to challenge me, Jon."

"I am not challenging you, Qyburn. I am stating a fact. I won't let you torture Sansa. Now, do you want me to call to her before she is gone or not?"

Huffing indignantly, the doctor shoved Jon forward, out of the bus.

 

"Sansa? It's me, Jon! Hey Sansa!"

Jon waved and yelled loudly, hoping it will not only get the girl's attention but hopefully Ramsay's. He heard a wail in the distance and knew no help was coming. Sansa turned before entering the opposite side of the trees and tilted her head.

"Jon? Jon! I have missed you! I'm coming, stay right there for me! I lost the others, even my dearest mother and the little brats ran off but here you are!"

The veneer was wearing off and Jon tried hard not to smile. She was lovely and graceful, but the bloodstains, the eyes and her bared teeth smeared into a shark smile was forcing the truth of her out.

Yet Jon nodded and stayed where he was, no weapons, arms outspread as if for a welcoming hug. How come Sansa hasn't sensed that he is already changed? Was he that good at hiding it? Or did it have something to do with his drinking of cannibal blood?

Sansa rushed him and at the very last second, Jon started to giggle. Stiffening, saliva pooling on his neck, Sansa spoke a sweet, calm question.

"Jon? Why are you laughing? You...you DO understand what is happening, right? You should be screaming or crying, unaware of the gift I am about to bestow upon you."

 

The prick of the needle made her cry out and too late did Sansa smell Qyburn. She bit on Jon's shoulder in anger and that is when she tasted flesh she may not eat.

As the sedative started to take effect, Sansa pulled back and weakly slapped Jon in the face.

"How dare you? I was going to let you be in my tribe! I was going to gift you and you would be so grateful and...that was very rude of you, Jon."

Sansa slumped and Jon lifted her carefully.

"Ramsay bit me. He was already infected, Sansa, the whole of Dreadfort was, Qyburn was too. And now most of the North is cannibal except us few who can control it. I was like you too once, but really, the crazy doctor can reverse it. You'll see for yourself. I'm sorry for the pain you will go through first...but it is necessary. And I promise not to let Qyburn experiment on you. I will try and persuade Ramsay as much as I can for you."

Sansa fell into a deep sleep thinking what horrible things she will do to Jon and Qyburn as soon as she wakes up.

 

Theon was enjoying the peace, the wind in his face and rippling through his hair. When was the last time he had a haircut? He could feel tendrils playing on his shoulders. He decided when he camped for the night, he will use his knife to cut it.

The sound of the motorbike startled the hell out of the horse when it burst through the bushes. Theon's hands were nearly ripped from the reigns and he found himself flying through the woods.

"REEK! STOP! REEK!"

That voice, that voice and Reek surged forth and released his bladder onto the saddle in fear. Theon swore and forced the horse even faster.

_No, no, we can't let him catch us, no no, I cannot go through that shit again. No fucking way, keep going and do not look back._

No matter how often Theon repeated that to himself, it didn't matter.

Reek turned to look at Ramsay, who had a look of maddened delight and he whimpered.

 

_We need to stop, to surrender, to give in and let him forgive us._

_Fuck you, we need distance is all. Just keep going forward and do not listen, do not look._

_He is gaining on us and will get angry if we don't stop!_

_He will be angrier if we do stop and I try to kill him which is what will happen so keep going!_

_Master has a gun, see, see, I can see it and he is pulling it out, waving it at us! We should stop now, it's a warning! We have to be good or it can be so bad!_

_Ramsay won't shoot to kill. He wants his fucking Reek to live, how else can he torture you?_

_Master will shoot to hurt or he will shoot the horse!_

_Fuck you._

_He is aiming! Master is going to shoot the horse, Theon!_

_Fine! Fuck you, fuck him and fuck the horse, fine! FINE!_

 

Theon stopped the horse.

 


	41. All About Me...And Saving The World.

Qyburn couldn't understand this, he has never failed in a theory before. He was too clever, too smart for such things. The virus has changed, yes and it has weakened it some ways. It had become easier over time for Qyburn to bring a feral back down to a reasonable state.

Alyn and Jon proved that his techniques worked well and that they can be brought back quicker and quicker than ever. Theon responded even faster then Jon had. Already he was calming enough that he can hold onto a sandwich and eat while in chains.

 

And here was this ginger monster just coldly shattering Qyburn's theories and resisting all his treatments at every turn.

It was working, but slower, so slow that he might as well have been treating Roose during the fucking war. How dare this little bitch refuse to take part in her own care! Doesn't she wish for the pain to end, for the better version of herself?

Jon had assured Qyburn that Sansa could be quite stubborn and tried to hide his grin.

 

All of them bore wounds from Sansa but mostly Qyburn who has now muzzled the girl and stuffed thick mittens on her hands. That was a suggestion from Jon after Ramsay got a good raking from her.

He saw Ramsay's face and knew the man was seconds from removing Sansa's nails so he blurted the suggestion. Luckily, Ramsay nodded and moved on. Theon growled as Ramsay went by and was swiftly kicked in the face for it.

Whining, he curled up and went silent.

"Are you Theon or Reek? Huh? Are we going to have to start all over again? You already have so much training to go through to control the beast, then you will have to be trained back into my Reek? Pity."

"Sorry, Master. FUCK YOU! KILL YOU, KILL YOU, FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING, RIP YOUR THROAT AND DRINK, DRINK, DRINK OH I HATE YOU!"

"Dammit, Ramsay! I asked you to please not stress him or it will slow down his progress! I don't care what personality he has, leave it alone! Jon, you'll have to restrain so I can sedate him. Not you, Ramsay! You have done quite enough, thank you."

 

Ramsay stormed off towards Sansa who was trying to laugh at him through her muzzle. Her bright feverish eyes had missed nothing and you could actually see her fighting off her treatment.

He rushed to her and grabbed onto her head, lifting her slightly from her restrained chair.

"What did you do to my precious Reek, you bitch? He tried to attack me after going to his knees so sweetly for me. Pretended he wished to surrender to his Master. Theon didn't have those kind of tricks, he was taught by your damned honorable father! You taught him to be that way, to be sneaky. You turned him into two people and I only want one of them! You have caused too much trouble already. I will make you pay for it as soon as you are brought back to some sanity.  Just know that your games and tricks won't work on me. I am the clever one here, Sansa."

The cackle he heard muffled made Ramsay want to snap her neck.

 

She tried.

Everything. Cersei tried.

Joff couldn't eat or drink water without choking. He made terrible sounds that made Cersei cry until her eyes stung and swelled till she could barely see out of them.

He was in such pain and misery and Cersei was helpless to fix it. Three days, it was three days that she tried. When Cersei put Joff to rest, she did it fast and painless. A bullet to the brain and then it was over.

Cersei buried her son and lay down on top of the fresh grave. She cried, mouth open, drool pouring into the dirt, her grief causing her to scream. 

She has no idea when she started to walk, nor does she recall anything for a long time.

 

No direction, no focus or goal, just movement and trying to survive on only a core level, Cersei walked. Until she walked straight up to the gate of a non infected community that has taken over an old camping ground as a refuge center.

It took her some time to eat normally, to speak to others and really respond to her surroundings. When she did however, Cersei found a goal again. During a therapy session where they all sat on logs at a fire pit and talked of their "experience", Cersei told hers. 

From the war onward to the tragic deaths of all of her family. She was an excellent storyteller and Cersei's charm fell into place along with her cold anger.

These younger folks are what mainly survived, they are strong and expendable.

"They have taken so much from all of us. My story is bad but I have heard all of yours and my heart aches for each of you. Those monsters have stolen our homes, our families and friends. We cannot suffer another loss or we are exterminated. We are living like animals so they can come hunt us. We aren't deer! But if we must be animals for now to beat them, then so be it. Then think of the scariest, most predatory animal you can and be that! We must defeat them. We can and will."

 

A young girl looked up at the woman and spoke.

"But, we don't have enough of us against all of them. My parents, all their soldiers, they are all dead or turned, we are just regular folks."

Cersei bent down and smiled at the teenager.

"Listen to me. You have no idea how powerful you are. But I do. You will be amazed at what you can do when you put your mind to it. These monsters will NOT win. You won't let them. We won't let them. I am going to show you exactly what a strong woman can do. And then you'll show me how much more you can do. You'll see."

By that nightfall, Cersei was a leader once more.

 

Ramsay, Qyburn and Jon sat in the fresh air on ratty chairs. They were so relieved to be out of that tin fucking prison as the bus is called now, they silently needed to relish it. 

Theon and Sansa were nowhere near leaving the bus safely, but the window was uncovered, so they could enjoy some air. Sansa has graduated to a mat alongside Theon's. Both wore mittens, muzzles and were chained by collars, harnesses and ankle cuffs.

Both have become frustrations to all on the bus. They are able to follow basic directions and could eat calmly on their own. They can walk around for small periods of time with their chains on.

Each can follow a conversation for some time. Transitioning out of attempting to trick their captors is going much slower than usual.

And both were way better at it then anyone expected. It was supposed to deteriorate, they were supposed to attempt the techniques to calm themselves. Neither of them wanted to and would refuse to stop their own descent or even try to.

 

No medical or physical threat was too horrific for them to continue to defy to practice self calming. They would succumb to the treatments forced upon them, but they refused to take any part in it.

Qyburn and Ramsay were surprised most by Theon's resistance. As the treatments worked quickly, sudden Theon's mental state began to deteriorate. He was both Reek and Theon but not as separate personalities. They were sharing all functions at the same time.

It was watching two men fight for dominance in one body. Like watching two men try to walk inside one man-suit. Sometimes it was amusing, most times it was irritating and mostly it would become dangerous to whomever was near them. 

Reek would meekly tell Ramsay he was loyal and good while Theon wrapped his hands around his tormentor's throat. Or Theon would be muttering swears and threats to Ramsay, while Reek would follow through on sitting, calmly standing and walking.

 

"This is taking way too fucking long, Qyburn. We can't spend our lives traveling in that fucking thing with those two lunatics in chains. Or three? Yeah, three lunatics actually. Speaking of that, what the fuck, doc? Why can't you fix that, I mean he sounds and looks like Turrets, right? I read about that...can't you find a medicine, an older one, for him? You were a doctor before the infections started, right? You would know about this shit, huh?"

"Ramsay, it isn't Turrets. He needs a different kind of doctor or therapist and I am not trained to help him with that. I didn't make this Reek, you did. And continually trying to force him into this personality is what is halting his progress. Since you won't stop calling him Reek, he escalates and it halts the progress. Then you call him Theon when you don't like his behavior and it escalates him again. I cannot do anything. We have this conversation more often than I check on their progress. I wish you'd stop or at least complain to me of something else."

"Sure, I can do that for you! How about how am I going to start an empire like this? I need a dynasty, I deserve it and damn it, when will there be a better time to claim it? The North is weak, it is wounded and it needs care and saving! We need to find a home base. Then we need to start gathering not only supplies but people! Any non infected we find, we trick, I bite and they are ours! Any cannibals we either kill or we capture to reverse and make ours. We need to begin, we cannot wait any longer. The cannibals are forming tribes, they are taking root. The non infected survivors will be hiding away or trying to get out of the North. We can collect them as we move around."

 

Ramsay turned to Jon who had been silent and gloomy, but paying attention to the conversation.

"Start thinking of a good place for us to set up base. You know the North maybe even more than I do. Ned took you on those long stupid hiking and camping trips all the way to the borders and back. Roose kept me a lot closer to home, sadly."

Jon furrowed his brow then he gave a short laugh and sat up straight.

"Petyr married Cat's sister Lysa! She wouldn't move South with him, her paranoia wouldn't let her back where her first husband was killed. So he found her this mountain home that she lives in with her son. Before Lysa married Petyr, she had a small fortress in the woods about an hour from the Stark land! It was deserted when she left and it probably still is!"

Qyburn leaned forward.

"Or...why don't you charm your way into Lysa's mountain fortress and that is perfect place for me to work."

Ramsay shook his head.

"No, Doctor Frankenstein, this isn't all about you. We go to this deserted fortress and we can start from there. But there is something I really want to do first. It's sort of the start button of this journey for me. For all of us. I need this to happen and it will. And you will both help me."

 

No amount of pleading or logic worked. Qyburn insisted that Sansa and Theon were nowhere ready for this. That both physically and mentally this could be dangerous. Jon tried explaining that Sansa is not at a point where she can make logical decisions or choices nor can Theon.

It all fell upon deaf ears and complain or question as they will, Jon and Qyburn ultimately obeyed Ramsay's insane demands.

"This is the first wedding I have attended where the bride wore mittens, bare feet and a sheet pinned like a toga. Oh and the peanut butter snarls in her hair are the real highlight. Or is it the manacles?"

Ramsay ignored Jon's mutterings as he tried a third time to coach Sansa and Reek. They were in a good mood this evening and both were calm.

 

"Sansa, do you understand what we are going to do? What I want you to do?"

"Oh yes, Ramsay. You want me as your mate. I am fine with that. It is what I want, ask Theon if you don't believe me. Except I wanted you to be like me. I wanted to bite and turn you. I wanted to be the one in the lead, Ramsay. There is still time, always a chance, so sure, I'll marry you."

"There's your warning right there."

"JON, SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH YOUR COMMENTS OR YOU'LL BE AT THE WEDDING WITH A FLAYED TOE!"

"Ramsay, I don't mean to interrupt but you do need to keep in mind I have no real authority to marry you just because I am a doctor."

"Its a new world, Qyburn! There are no rules anymore, just the new ones we create. You are now given the authority to marry us because I, as your leader, say it is so!"

"Reek, stop biting at your fingers and pay attention."

Ramsay stared at Theon who just admonished his own self and sighed.

 

It was the strangest wedding ever performed on a bus.

Jon stood next to ramsay near the exit, with Qyburn behind them.

Theon and Sansa slowly made their way down the aisle. Both were manacled at their mitten hands and at their ankles. Jangling and staggering, the two came towards Ramsay. Sansa gave a gentle smile and her eyes grew hungry.

Reek moved the best he could, trying to squeeze himself smaller as he held onto Sansa's mitten. The whole time Theon sneered and growled insults and curses at Ramsay.

Ramsay insisted they not be muzzled during the ceremony. So he had to simply endure the naughty Theon's voice and Jon kept a cattle prod close in case the bride decides to eat the groom.

 

"Ramsay Bolton, do you take Sansa Stark as your wife?"

"I do."

"Fuck you, you motherfucking, cock-sucking, douche bag."

"Sansa Stark, do you take Ramsay Bolton as your husband?"

"Don't be stupid, bite that prick's fucking face off! Motherfucker!"

"I do. Theon, shut up! Do not ruin my wedding by tempting me to do something so fun. It isn't proper for me to eat my husband's face. No matter how delicious it might be."

"By the authority that Ramsay Bolton has given me, I now pronounce you man and wife!"

"I hope she murders you! I hope she eats your handsome fucking face! I hate you, fucking asshole!"

"You may kiss the bride, but I really wouldn't suggest it."

"Ramsay, darling, you can kiss me. In fact, I am all for consummating our marriage. We can take a tent and go somewhere private?"

"Sweet wife, as much as I want to kiss you, have sex with you, I think it's safer for us to wait. We did manage to stock a few bottles of wine, maybe we can share that instead?"

"Stupid fuck! Hate you, I hate you! She will eat your face or I will! I'm going to eat your face too, Jon!"

"My face? What did I do?"

Ramsay turned to glare at Jon.

"For just once brother, can everything not be about YOU! It's MY wedding day, Jon!"


	42. Climb High, Dream Higher

They crept slowly, staying in shadows, mainly traveling at night. Twice they have caught non infected survivors. Both times in spite of the best of intentions, they were eaten rather than bitten and changed.

The one time they ran into a cannibal scout, he was torn to shreds rather than offered a chance to join them.

"Rickon, you can't just kill or eat everyone we find. We need to gather others to form our own tribe, remember? That was one of our main goals?"

 

When they headed out of the North and were able to nearly reach the bottom of the mountains, they saw another person. Jaime grabbed tightly to Rickon and whispered harshly into his ear.

"No. No. You may not attack or eat this one. I know him, I am his friend...or was, at least. I will talk to him, then turn him. You will stay here while I go see him. I don't trust you to keep calm and behave near a person that isn't infected. Stay right here. Can you do that for me?"

Rickon nodded but looked quite disappointed.

"That man is too...fancy. See how his clothes are all fancy under the dirt and blood? And he is thin, crying and looks so weak, he is useless to us but for dinner!"

"He is a great political advantage and he won't be weak after the infection, you know that. Now stay here and let me handle this."

 

Loras sat on a rock and pawed through his sad sack of depleted supplies. Wiping his stinging red eyes, sniffing daintily, Loras sat up. He was fucked. If he was lucky his one water bottle, one gun and single candy bar will last him until he gets back South.

He will be punished for running off, but they will let him back in. There was no further point to this, Loras would never make it North. And he had heard the reports of the North being overrun by cannibals.

It was too late and there was no where else safe for him to go. If he was lucky, he will make it back to the Southern gates. Cringing at the thought of what the Mountain will let his men do to him, Loras almost wept again.

Better to think those thoughts than any of what had happened up there. Better than to think of his sister, his beloved, wonderful sister. And here came the tears that Loras despised.

 

"Loras?"

Leaping to his feet, unsteadily aiming the gun, Loras stared at a much more rugged and ragged looking Jaime Lannister. He wasn't holding a weapon or trying to attack him.

"J...Jaime? Are you, are you? Oh my god, Jaime! I am alone, my sister....Lysa, that fucking cunt, that crazy jealous bitch!"

With a grave look of sympathy, Jaime walked over slowly allowing Loras to hug him. Then he bit hard into the dainty neck and Loras screamed. 

"I'm sorry, Loras. It hurts at first but then it won't. And then I am going to help you get revenge for whatever happened to your sister. I swear."

 

Jaime held Loras through the worst of it while Rickon left on his own to scout towards Lysa's property. The boy was gone long enough for Jaime to just start to worry. It was hard to think of the boy while he was tending to Loras.

Rickon came back with an interesting report.

"Everyone is in this little stone wall town way up. Only a few guards with guns standing on top. No scouts, no soldiers walking outside the walls. They are scared, I could hear them talk. The radio told them the cannibals took over the North. They say a crazy lady was right and they should have listened. They talk about hiding there forever or running towards the South. They are scared and I want to eat them. The more scared they are, the better they taste."

 

Loras's voice was hoarse and shaky, but coherent.

"Lysa is fucking nuts and they all know it but they allow it. Now they think to maybe run for it? I escaped, there is a way to get in and out of there, I can show you. Did you mean it, Jaime? You will help me get revenge? Yes? I can be the one to kill Lysa? She can't be turned or eaten, she is disgusting, insane and I need to avenge my sister! You mean it, Jaime?"

"Yes, l mean it, Loras. Lysa will die by your hands only. Calm your breathing and stop that drooling. Breathe it out, Loras, you can do it. Good, good work, Loras. Nice job, I can't believe how fast you are learning! It was worse for me and the boy still barely has any control. Here, have some water and just sit for a moment."

 

Jaime waited until Loras was able to keep a modicum of control over his actions before they trekked up the mountainside. Rickon went ahead and flitted about making sure no one saw them coming.

 "That bitch, crazy ass psycho! She..she has a boy around Rickon's age, a bit younger maybe..I don't know. Petyr sent us to Lysa, his wife, thinking she would help, that she would rally her people for her husband's fight. I don't think he knew how nuts she really is! Kept hugging her kid like he was a baby and glaring at us. Told us that a letter from Petyr meant nothing. That she loved him but could not risk opening her gates for anyone. She had to keep her child safe at all costs, way up high tucked away and protected by her men.  We couldn't persuade her and before we could leave, she offered us a meal. We should have said no and left...I saw how crazy she was..."

 Loras sobbed then snarled.

 

"That stupid lunatic cunt killed her! She accused Margeary of flirting with her kid! Then the fucking loony kid CLAPPED as the woman ordered men to drag my sister to a hole! They had a fucking HOLE straight down the mountain built into her damned foyer! I was held by four men and I saw Lysa herself be the one to give the shove! I heard my sister scream then nothing....they watched, mother and son watched, smiling! As soon as the men let me go, I ran. I heard the lady yell for them to just let me get the hell off her mountain. I ran, not out the door because I didn't trust them, I ran around a corridor randomly but found a different way out.!"

"Calm down enough to do this, Loras. If they hear or see us before we are inside, it's over. We get in, bite a few, then the chaos will begin. They will attack each other and we can just waltz through to find Lysa and the boy."

 

Slipping in the cracks like insects, they attacked every person they saw for about ten minutes. That was all it took for the new cannibals to begin to attack the non infected. As promised, Loras and Jaime walked through most of the chaos, only having to fight with a few non infected.

"Whoever survives will become part of us, Loras. Just remember that, no grudges can be held on those that survive this. Except Lysa, of course."

Loras preferred not to create but to eat but tried hard to resist the urge so he can go after Lysa. It helped that Jaime grabbed some young woman and knocked her out and held her towards Loras.

"You need to. Take a bite or twenty so you can calm yourself down."

 

He did feel better after he ate her flesh and drank her blood. Loras stopped biting into her when she woke and screamed, but he settled for ripping her throat out and lapping at the blood.

Lysa and Robin had locked themselves into a small room, furniture piled across the door. Loras growled in frustrated rage and kept attacking the door uselessly. Rickon grinned and took off somewhere.

Jaime caught movement outside the hallway window and smirked. He watched the boy crawl over the craggy mountain and then he went out of view towards the bedroom window.

 

A crash of glass and a scream.

"Open the door! Don't you kill her, Rickon! She is mine, that bitch is my kill, you hear me?"

There was an immense amount of chaotic sound before the door swung open. Rickon was run over by Loras, followed by Jaime who kindly helped the boy to his feet.

Lysa held a knife in her shaking hands as she stood in a corner of the bedroom, her son shoved behind her. She lifted her chin and hissed at the cannibals.

"I will NEVER let you filthy beasts touch my lovely boy or me! I will kill us both first!"

 

The woman yanked her son to her, ready to slice his throat and then her own. Loras discovered a new predator's speed he did not posses before. Loras surged up to the woman and knocked the knife out of her hand then punched her hard in the jaw.

A scream burst out of the boy as his mother fell with a thud to the rug, moaning, dazed. He knelt over her and tried to shake her as if he couldn't understand what was wrong.

"Mommy? Mommy? Don't nap right now, the bad filth is here! Remember? You told me! They are here! Wake up! Wake up, Mommy!"

 

Loras grabbed the boy and flung him away. Robin hit the wall and slid down it, wiping away tears and snot, he kept making a hitching sound in his throat. When Loras started to drag his mother away by her hair, the boy tried to go after him, but he was blocked.

By Rickon, who had a very mischievous grin on his face. Rolling his eyes, Jaime decided to leave Rickon to this easy prey.

 

He followed after Loras to watch the man joyfully throw the screaming Lysa out of the hole in the foyer.

"That felt amazing. It was fitting. My poor sister has been avenged. Funny, the emotion seems to be less now. I don't grieve as much this fast? Do we lose all humanity, Jaime?"

"I haven't yet. I still miss my sister and Brienne. But it's like...a memory of how I feel, you know? We must be careful not to fully lose control of our emotions and morals. Or we will be true monsters or beasts."

"Aren't we already? We are covered in blood and just slaughtered several people. Ate some of them."

"Yes. But not all of them. We turned most of them and now they will join with us. Let's go start checking out our supplies and new tribe."

 

Jaime was dead tired and finally had sat down to drink some water and think of his plans. He sighed when Loras came over.

"I'm sorry, Jaime. I know we are all tired and need to take a break. But we have a....well, I don't know what it is. But we got to Lysa and her son Robin about five hours ago."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Robin is still alive. Rickon is chasing him through the upstairs, downstairs then back up again. He traps him, wounds him but not enough to turn him....then releases him to chase the boy down again."

 

Shrugging, Jaime gave an uneasy smile.

"He is young, maybe he just likes to play with his food?"

"Five hours of playing with his food? A little too long and you should reign him in. Kill, eat or turn the boy. He won't listen to me and Rickon respects you, he listens to you." 

"Dammit. Fine."

 

Jaime found Rickon growling at a cowering boy hiding under a writing desk in a random room.

"Hey, what are you doing, foolish? Playing with your food is fine but it's been way too long now, Rickon. End it. Either eat or turn the boy."

Rickon shook his head at Jaime, grinning wildly.

"No. I like him, like a pet! I never got a pet of my own! It was always Arya's horse, or Sansa's kittens or Robb or Jon's dogs! Even Theon had a fishbowl! I got nothing of mine! I like to chase him and hear him scream, watch him try to run and get away! He is really funny."

 

"Not a pet! Not food either"!

"Shut up and stay hiding, we aren't done playing yet!"

"I am tired of playing this game! You scared me, made me rip and mess my nice pants and...and...YOU MADE ME GET A BLOODY SPOT ON MY KNEE!"

Shaking his head at the inane argument, Jaime tried to comprehend this.

 

Tilting his head, Jaime stared confused at Rickon.

"You...you don't have the urge to eat him or rip him apart, really? You chased and attacked all this time without losing any control? Huh."

Loras had followed Jaime in and gasped at the look of consideration on the man's face.

 

"You can't really be thinking to let him! Rickon, we do not keep humans as pets! Whether they are infected or not! You must eat or kill him! Now, young man!"

"Ever hear of therapy pets, Loras? I mean...if the boy helps Rickon learn control? Rickon, on a trial basis, I will let you keep him, but you must water and feed him! And he is already housebroken, make sure he gets regular bathroom time like you do! And if you don't want the others to eat or kill him, you'd better put a collar and leash on him or something."

Loras snorted in disgust and stormed out of the room. Ignoring him, Jaime knelt down to look under the furniture at the cowering boy.

 

"Do you understand, lad? Huh? Can you understand what I am saying?"

Robin looked at the man with eyes that were a muddled mixture of fear, adrenaline and the simpleness of a much sheltered child.

"You are my little buddy's pet now because he likes you. His name is Rickon and he is going to let you stay alive and not a cannibal, isn't that very nice of him? All you have to do is what he says and keep him happy by playing his games!"

"I don't want to always play his games! He has games that get scary and are really tiresome. I mean it was fun because Mommy NEVER lets me run but I don't always want to. And I am not a pet! I am a Robin! But don't let him eat me!"

 

Rickon giggled at the hysterical high pitched voice. Jaime spoke slower but louder, firmer.

"Boy, listen to me. If you be good for Rickon, no biting, no eating or killing you. Do you understand that?"

Robin started to argue with a pout and Jaime shook his head.

"This is silly, Rickon, he won't understand, he can't calm down or he is simply too....traumatized. This toy might be broken, maybe we can find you another playmate or pet?"

 

"No. I don't want another one to play with, I want this one! I can make him understand, I promise. Watch, I can do it. He understands me when we play, he will understand he is my pet now. Watch, watch me, Jaime."

Rickon reached under the desk and grabbed the boy's ankle and grabbed him out while Robin screamed. When the boy was fully clear from the desk, Rickon crawled over Robin and growled, gnashing his teeth in the boy's tear stained face.

 

"Want me to eat you?"

"NO, PLEASE!"

"Then shut up. Do what I tell you or I will eat you."

"My mommy will get mad, where is she?"

"Dead. All the rest are dinner or cannibals. You are only safe with me. I am going to be a good pet owner! Just do what I tell you and I won't let anyone eat you. Deal?"

"No deal. I don't want to be eaten. But I won't be your pet and I get to choose some of the games."

"No. You are my pet. I choose all the games. Deal?"

"No. I will be a pet but I get to choose some of the games. Deal?"

"Deal."

 

Two hours later Jaime was walking down the darkened halls as the others either slept, full of bloody flesh or wandered about trying to understand their new minds and bodies.  They are too new for Jaime to do more than make sure they understood to stay in the fortress.

He and Loras will help teach them all more control over themselves. Then he will get them all to follow his lead, to be members of his tribe. They will rest here, then keep this place as their home base while they collect more and build a formidable force.

Then he will take his cannibal tribe South. Let's see how Gregor and Jaime's father enjoy the new changes he will bring.

 

 


	43. Bloody Crowns Of The North

Slowly the fires of the North burned out leaving some ash and scorched earth.

Plenty of the land and woods were salvaged, more was untouched by the fires. In some places the grass was soaked through with blood, dirt sucked at the carcasses not yet buried.

Other areas were still untouched by battle or fire, instead they were trudged deep into new pathways. Created by refugees, cannibals and controlled infected all trying to find new grounds.

And the North slowly seemed to reform itself, just a power shift and the nature surrounding all of them didn't care.

 

Styr decided he enjoyed the look of Mance's village, what was left of it. He made it his new home. It was a brutal struggle to dominate the other cannibal tribes. There was no quarter or mercy shown once Styr and his forces appeared.

Each group they ran into, Styr was clear with his intentions before any fighting would begin. He would calmly explain that he would allow tribes to flourish, under his command as King.

Along with their pledge of loyalty to Styr, they would allow him and his followers to take tally of what they had, their weaknesses and strengths. He could then help with supplies and their learning of how to be a self sufficient group.

If they could not agree to give their tribal loyalty to Styr, they would die.

There was no discussion after that.

Word traveled fast from tribe to tribe, large and small. Most were still trying to learn this new found world and were too weak to do more than agree. The few that couldn't tolerate the thought of answering to another leader fought savagely.

 

Now Styr had every tribe left under his control.

Lyanna Mormont holds the former Stark land and she has pledged her allegiance to Styr. Her advisor Bronn didn't seem to like the idea very much, but he stayed silent and did as the girl bid.

A group of shifty eyed half crazed young Frey women have taken over the Bolton Estates that they keep surrounded by snarling Wilding men. They also declared their allegiance to Styr.

Of course, there was a little snarl, as expected after the battles were over.

Two main issues that Styr did not quite expect. And as the King of the cannibals, he better find a solution since these newly formed tribes were expecting him to.

 

The last owner of the Dreadfort, some fucking little upstart arrogant fucker called Ramsay Bolton. He travels in a death bus with the last Stark and their mad scientist Qyburn. Oh and don't forget that they kidnapped Styr's little fuck ups, Sansa and Theon.

Styr didn't care for the pair but they were of his tribe and this Bolton dared to steal them. He forcibly brought some form of control or cure to them and to anyone else they can catch.

Ramsay announced that he has married Sansa and that Theon is his loyal pet. He promises a swift death or a long painful cure to any cannibals he runs across.

The man has found a home base and it is too defended for anyone to breach it. He rides out with his partners and they have been the boogeyman of the cannibals.

 

If Ramsay Bolton is the Boogeyman of the North, then the other problem could be aptly named the Terrorists of the North.

 

The refugees, cattle, the non infected, the name changes among different tribes, they have not taken well to being driven out of power. They are not content to hide in the woods like prey to be hunted. They are not content to attempt to flee the lands.

Some golden bitch from the South has been rounding up all the non infected in a hidden base that none of Styr's scouts or spies can find. Styr remembers Cersei and isn't surprised it's her that is in charge of this new chaos.

They attack small tribes and cause as much trouble for larger ones as they can. Not content with just shooting or stabbing the cannibals, no, the cattle creates traps.

Explosions that destroy not only cannibals but gates, homes, land. Pits full of spikes, bear traps hidden well, razor wire to cleanly behead or amputate crossed throughout common hunting grounds. 

 

Styr used the skull of Tormund to drink his mead and then chuckled. So the North has more fighting to go through. It will survive.

A battle of Cannibals, Boogeymen and Terrorists. So be it.

 


	44. Blistering Conditions

"I'm going to slaughter you. Are you ready for it, Jorah?"

Moaning, Jorah wiped his forehead and nodded before grimly speaking.

"Go for it, but you'll lose."

Tense and silent, Tyrion, Hot Pie and the other men all watched.

 

Jeyne's movements were fast and then a curse from Jorah and a resounding cheer from the others. Jorah tossed the dice hard at the men, grumbling that they should be more loyal to the man that pays them, not the pretty slave girl.

Tyrion clapped the loudest and hugged the girl as she sat next to him.

"It boggles my mind how good you are at gambling, my dear! Had I known while we were free...oh, the missed opportunities!"

"I have won us enough alcohol to make this trip tolerable. My brother will start a card game tomorrow and let's see if we can persuade them to lose actual coin or trade to us."

 

Grinning at Jeyne, Tyrion peered across the water to see if Arya was still around. She had fallen behind a few times, far enough back that for a day or two they thought she was gone. Then Jorah would sigh as her little boat turned a corner or emerged from mist, still on their tail.

 

"Ah, well, here is something interesting! I know where we are even though I rarely ever went in a boat. The few times I did, I remember this very area, closer of course than this. But see that row of flags at that rock outcropping? Huh, wait...

Tyrion narrowed his eyes and just stared at the plumes of smoke, at the wreckage of woods. In the distance, smoke hung over several areas of the South.

Jorah stood near him and shook his head sadly.

"Looks like Viserys and Gregor got their war, after all."

 

"So the cannibals take down the North but the non infected take down each other in the South? Makes no sense either way, take us somewhere else, Jorah. These places make no sense."

Jorah snorted at Hot Pie.

"If I could get Dany to go with me, I would take us all somewhere else. But Dany won't leave her brother and I don't think there is anywhere that makes sense anymore."

They sailed by destruction, peaceful landscapes, actual fighting and heard one major explosion. The land disappeared from view as they caught more wind and went further away.

The next time they saw land, Jorah said it was near the docks they would enter to reach the Targaryen land. 

 

Any thoughts or plans that had been created to run were dashed quickly. Not by any warnings given by Jorah, of which there were plenty. Not by the men that surrounded them nor the chains upon them.

It was seeing what was the alternative to a guarded escort. This was nothing like the area they were bought from, not at all. Just while getting out onto the docks, they saw two murders and a runaway slave whipped nearly to death.

"No feral would come here and risk being put in chains, or be tortured to death. This is not a place for us, we can't try to run or fight here. Way too dangerous. We have to wait and bide our time."

Tyrion was secretly relieved to hear Jeyne's whisper. He was unable to think of a single way to defend himself in this terrible place. As they walked, the ferals and Tyrion were glad to let Jorah and the men keep them safe.

A girl was gang raped as they walked past into a bathhouse.

 

Tyrion and Hot Pie were watched by the men, Jorah himself went with Jeyne though he never once touched her. It was truly a matter of protection and nothing more.

All of them were scrubbed down by servants and given new clothing. Well, at least Hot Pie and Jeyne were.

For Tyrion, he had to wait in a towel while his clothes were washed and given any needed repairs. They had no clothing for his size unless he wished to wear children's clothing and he vehemently objected to that.

 

Jeyne objected to her clothing change immediately.

"Where is the rest of it?"

Jorah smirked and shrugged.

"Sorry, it's what Viserys likes his slave girls to look like. I don't pick the dresses, you were just lucky that they had one of those styles here. What most dress their sex slaves in is much worse."

 

Hot Pie didn't mind the tunic or the breeches, he hated the sandals. They squeaked and were clunky, not at all meant for sneaking or running. He laughed when he saw his sister though. Jeyne's dress was merely transparent scarves that flowed and only barely covered her.

The mutinous look on her face over it was hysterical.

Once they were all cleaned, clothed and combed, they left to enter a small van.

 

It was a double edged sword for the captives. They wanted the open road to escape but wanted protection from the crowds.

"I hope wherever you are taking us, it's better than this."

Jorah turned from speaking to the driver to look at Tyrion.

"I hope it is still the way it was when I left. For all our sakes, actually."

 

Jeyne turned to Hot Pie and there were tears in her eyes. He patted her hand and Tyrion tried to offer what clumsy comfort he had.

"Don't be scared, Jeyne. It will be alright, we will stay safe and find a way out later."

"It's not that. That little girl, she was still following us. What if she docked and someone saw her, grabbed her? Like that girl in front of the bathhouse? She is all alone."

Hot Pie and Tyrion both stared with such hostility at Jorah that he flinched from it.

"What? It's not my fault whatever happens to her! She probably gave up and sailed elsewhere. She was clever, she would have seen that it was too dangerous and moved on. I'm sorry, there is nothing I can do to help her."

 

Jorah turned away and left the three to stare at him all they wanted. He needed to get back to Dany, that was all that really mattered. Stuffing down any minor guilt over the unprotected young girl, he concentrated on urging the driver to move faster.

 

Arya grimly watched as Jorah's docked boat sat gently tossing upon the waves. By the time she rounded the bend, they were gone into the crowd she can see. There was no way she could safely go into that, damn it. Not alone.

She kept rowing, hoping to find a better way to get onto the land. And there was no where to go, everywhere there were cruel looking people. Or armed men, then ships that she knew not to go anywhere near.

This was a slave bay and she needed to leave. Tears blurred her eyes as she rowed on, loathing that she cannot save herself or her friends. She was running out of supplies, she was always dizzy and her skin was burnt bright red.

The chills made her teeth chatter and Arya wasn't even aware when her eyes closed. Her boat didn't care and kept floating.

 

"What the hell is it? Is it a boy or girl? Is it alive?"

A sharp pain in her side made Arya attempt to open her eyes and grab at her side.

"It's alive! Want me to ask if it's a boy or a girl? Is it as ugly under the sunburn, do you think?"

Arya tried to focus but only saw the blur above her.

"W..w..water? Please?"

Speaking even that much hurt and Arya coughed, trying to sit up. Her head spun and her skin burned. Then the world decided to swallow her whole.

 


	45. A Dragon, Ferals, A Freak And A Friendzoned Man

The large stone walls still looked strong and the Targaryen flags were still fluttering upon them, Jorah saw with relief. Though the areas surrounding it were overrun by criminals and others that were being drained to poverty for a war, it looks like the main city still stood safely.

It wasn't guarded by as many as before but the fact that any men were left was a relief.

 

Jorah had the men watch the three captives while he ran towards Dany's hotel. No one stopped him, no one even cared that he was there at all.

No one at all was on Dany's floor, including the woman herself. Most of her stuff was still there, but all her clothing was gone, so was her luggage. Cursing, Jorah went to find Viserys.

 

Viserys's floor had a handful of people on it, a few slaves and some armed men. The man himself was alone in his living room, sprawled on his couch, a pout upon his face. He looked like a child on time out.

His eyes brightened upon seeing Jorah bursting through the door.

"Jorah, you are back! What have you brought for me?"

 

"Where is your sister? Dany's rooms are empty! Where is she?"

The handsome face darkened ominously.

"Why is she always your first concern? I sent you to bring me something interesting. Did you fail me? Like so many others, are you disloyal and against me now too?"

 

Jorah shook his head, sensing the danger.

"No, of course I am loyal to you. Viserys, you know how I feel about Dany. I just want to make sure she is safe. And yes, I brought you some interesting new slaves. They are being brought here by my men, they should be here in a moment."

Viserys nodded after staring hard at Jorah then he gave a malicious smirk.

 

"Well, it turns out your dearest Dany isn't as loyal to me as you are and she has also proven she has no loyalty towards you either. She has deserted us. My own sister betrayed me. You want to see Dany? Then you'll have to go through the fucking Fire tribe to reach her. I sent Dany to assist Stannis and his red priestess with a ritual. What happens? The fucking bitch grabbed Stannis's damned daughter and turns traitor! They put on this big fucking show and boom! Stannis and the priestess are killed and the two bitches take the WHOLE DAMNED THING! THE WHOLE ARMY IS THEIRS! THAT WAR! IT ISN'T ME, IT'S FUCKING DANY RUNNING MY WAR!"

 

Jorah stared at Viserys with his mouth open, trying to process this. Slowly, he put it together as best he could as Viserys snapped his fingers for a servant to rush forth to pour wine. Jorah took the wine with a hand that almost didn't shake at all.

"The Fire tribe. That is the new name now that Shireen and Dany run it. They are even more savage and brutal then they were under Stannis's control. Only differences are Gods aren't attached to them anymore and Dany outlawed human sacrifice and slavery within their reach. They have been engaged with the Mountain for three months now. And here I am, left to take care of the peasants and be a fucking domestic! I should be there, not my fucking stupid sister! When I see her again, oh when I get my hands on her, she will remember which of us is the dragon!"

 

"You sent Dany to Stannis and the priestess. And there was to be a ritual with her and Stannis's daughter. Did you send Dany to be their human sacrifice so they would help you in the war?"

Viserys gave a vehement response as he paced back and forth.

"NO! I was tricked! When they met Dany, the priestess really seemed to like her and so did Stannis! They asked if she would come to share in a celebration to show our new alliance. I...I knew they were going to sacrifice the little girl but I never agreed to doing that to my own sister! I thought she would have to watch them burn the kid, to not say anything against it because we had to show peace with them! I thought the whole trip would be upsetting and remind her how good she has it here. I never thought they would try to sacrifice her too! I would have stopped it, I never would have sent her! But...to betray me like this? I tried to tell her I had no idea they would do that but she won't listen."

 

Jorah wanted to hit the arrogant, selfish cruel young man and he drank the wine, trying to resist the urge.

"I have brought you three interesting new slaves. Once you have met them, I want to go find Dany. I am not doing it to desert you, I can be the mouthpiece you need. She won't read your letters or speak to you, but she will talk to me. I can make sure she understands your side of things, Viserys."

Tilting his head sideways, Viserys narrowed his eyes.

"I am having some trust issues right now, Jorah. Show me my slaves and let me think on your offer. For now, I am not willing to let you leave me for that selfish bitch, we both know she will try and keep you, manipulate you against me."

 

The three were just being pushed into the hallway when a somewhat angry looking Jorah appeared before them.

"I am sorry, Tyrion. It looks like you'll be joining your friends as a slave for Viserys. Dany has left. And I advise all three of you to be very cautious. Your new owner is an easily bored, prone to sadistic violence, kind of Master. I was charged with finding him interesting and unique slaves. For your sake, don't try and be normal now."

Nodding, Hot Pie looked up at Jorah with disgust.

"In other words, just be ourselves, right? Fuck you, Jorah. No matter how bad this man is, you are still worse. Because you know what will happen and you cause the misery then pretend you feel bad for it."

 

Jorah entered the room first and gestured towards Hot Pie first. With a mutinous frown for Jorah, the young man walked slowly into the room. His eyes swept around the silk wallpaper, fancy furnishings and the handsome, very intense man pacing about.

Nearly tiptoeing, Viserys came forward, his eyes searching the young man for something interesting.

"This is Hot Pie. He is a feral from the North. That alone is different but there is more. He is a feral, a true Northern feral...that is a chef. I have tasted his food myself and it is amazing."

 

A short burst of cruel laughter as Viserys came close enough for Hot Pie to back up a step and look at the ground nervously. He forced himself to meet the man's eyes but he couldn't hold the gaze long.   

The man noticed this and smirked, causing Hot Pie to seethe internally as he held himself stiff and silent.

"How did a feral, a Northern one at that, learn how to be a chef? Ferals aren't smart and would never willingly stay long enough to learn a trade. And NO school or university that exists still would ever let a feral join. I can't wait to taste your cooking...what was your name again? Hot Pie? It's so stupid and your pudgy face looks stupid...but I want to try your food! This is unique and interesting. Two more you said, right?"

 

Jorah nodded and Viserys got into Hot Pie's face, forcing him to look into his eyes again.

"You will call me Master. You will amuse me. You will make me meals that make my mouth water just by smelling the food. Or you'll suffer the dragon. Let me hear you say, Yes Master or I am going to cut out your tongue to avoid that problem completely."

"Yes,Master. If you cut out my tongue then I will be unable to taste my food that I cook for you. It will diminish the perfection of the food, Master."

Viserys stared hard at Hot Pie for a moment while Jorah winced. Hot Pie's eyes were not challenging, he was not tensing to attack, just making a statement. Viserys gave a burst of laughter and tousled the young slave's hair.

"You are amusing. Just be careful to keep your words respectful, boy. And we are going to get along fine."

 

Jorah grabbed Jeyne's arm and spun her into the room. Her wild long hair and the scarves of her dress swirled around her as Jeyne turned the push into a semi twirl. She gracefully stood in the center of the room and glared at Jorah.

"This is Jeyne, Hot Pie's sister. A feral that is not only pretty but can dance and do contortions among other things. She can gamble and con you right out of all your belongings. She is also a storyteller."

Viserys walked away from Hot Pie to circle the girl and he spoke softly, smirking.

"Jeyne, huh? Now she looks quite wild, like a proper Northern feral that stole some southern slave's outfit. Pretty and a nice figure. Show me how you can dance, contort....show me some talent, Jeyne."

 

Jeyne gave a smirk right back to Viserys and found a beat in her head to move to. Her hair and the fabric flew about her as she swung her hips, spinning into a wild top around the room. Then she reached behind her, back arching impossibly and she grabbed her ankles while staring at Viserys.

"Oh wow. Yes, she is perfect, I love it! I am sure that I am going to learn each of her talents very well. Maybe I will let her gamble with me, see if she can beat me, though I doubt it. No one can but my sister and that is only when I let her, really."

Viserys walked up to Jeyne and grabbed her by the hair, to pull her head back and look into her large eyes. She did not look scared or timid, but she wasn't challenging, her eyes seemed to swirl with mystery.

"Are you a virgin?"

 

Jeyne gave a rusty chuckle and her voice was light and full of dark humor.

"No, not for some time now. But I have only taken two lovers. I have never been raped though, if that is what you really meant. Oh wait, that is what you are going to do, not what you were asking, sorry."

"So much sass for such a little girl, reminds me a bit of my sister. Don't remind her of me too much, Jeyne, it might be dangerous for you. I am glad you aren't a virgin, they take more training and they wail so much."

It was clearly difficult for Jeyne not to move when Viserys let go of her hair but ran a hand down her face and neck.

 

Jorah didn't want to risk an explosion from the ferals so he waved Tyrion forward and spoke loudly to get Visery's attention.

"And here is the final and most unique find of all for you, my friend and leader! This one is quite special and I truly hope that this proves to you how much I care to make sure to follow your orders and always deliver what you need and want."

Viserys gasped and then clapped his hands in delight at the sight of the little man.

"Oh no! Really? How did you ever....you brought me TYRION LANNISTER! THE DWARF! Jorah...thank you! I can't tell you how pleased you have made me, restored my faith, honestly! I was thinking of having you watched for fear of broken loyalty...but you did this for me! Not only the enemy's own son but a dwarf for me to play with!"

 

Tyrion narrowed his eyes at Jorah then he looked at Viserys and shook his head.

"Excuse me? Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but being the son of Tywin Lannister doesn't mean anything unless it's the name Jaime. It is quite well known that my father despises me. He won't care if someone holds me hostage."

"It might matter to my sister. I shall radio her of you but in the meantime, don't worry, you are no hostage! No, Tyrion, you were bought and paid for. You are my new jester! I will have someone make you a wonderful little outfit with satin and stripes and bells! I hope you dance and can tell good jokes!"

"I can do many things. Most of my talents do not involve humiliation or degradation however."

Viserys patted the man's head and smirked.

"You'll get used to it."


	46. Pearls

Olenna took her time, letting her maid make the hair and nails perfectly. Then she applied her own make up, paying close attention to her eyebrows. A good brow can be used to indicate so many things.

The servant came back over with a wooden box, open to reveal the glittery mess inside.

"Now darling, this is an important meeting today, not our usual public tea times. This is facing a whole Mountain, not just our usual grey male matter or the shadow twins. This calls for more armor than costume jewelry. Please put that back and bring me the pearls, child."

 

The young maid timidly scurried to obey and Ollenna finally decided she had enough of this behavior.

"Stop. I simply cannot take anymore of this. Young lady, I truly need you to open those ears of yours and hear me. I am known to cut others into pieces with my words and that includes servants. But I do not injure them or use physical pain as discipline. I am very sorry, more than I can say, for what happened to you. I am sorry that you were stolen from your husband and son. I swear that if there was anyway for me to return you to them, I would. All I could do at the time, was be in the right place at the right time. Gilly, I do not believe in slavery. You were Craster's slave, yes, but you are my servant. You work for me and I clothe, feed and shelter you. I am your boss, not your master. Please begin to understand that, so I can speak with you the way I speak with the other servants."

Gilly wiped sudden tears from her eyes and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Tyrell. And I am grateful that you helped me. Most others would have just not looked and kept going."

 

_Olenna clearly remembers the first time she saw Gilly._

_Pretending to be her own cook, a woman as old and crusty as Olenna herself, she went for a tour with her driver._

_Gregor had promised to keep the crime and the slavery trade out of the main South at the very least. He had apparently lied because well within Southern limits, Olenna saw an appalling truth of the matter._

_She had stopped at a small tavern, heckling the waiter until he brought her tea and some crackers. At first, Olenna was just scanning the other patrons. Her driver sat with her and he had severely disproved of this area as a resting place._

_But in order for Olenna to truly know how bad the rumors were, was to see for herself. So far she has seen a shocking amount of poverty, one fist fight and sullen teens in groups with weaponry. She saw other people slumped in doorways of decrepit homes, drunk or drugged.  
_

_Now she would see it all in the flesh rather than from the car window._

 

_This village comprised of the refugees that made it from the North when the cannibals attacked and those who wished to live on the fringe of society without being bothered with laws or community._

_There was a booth full of leather clad kids that in a past time would have been in college. They were tattooed everywhere and they were loud and boisterous. Throwing food at each other and exchanging rude jokes and insults._

_A few sat alone, heads down, clearly having no interest in anything but their meals. A tired looking woman sat with three children and attempted to split one meal between them all._

_What caught Olenna's attention was the sight of a repulsive looking man, dragging five young women into a large booth. They were all clearly abused, bruised, dirty, uncombed hair and all were wearing slave collars._

_The driver tried to gently calm the elderly woman but she couldn't watch it. The man allowed the girls each one small vegetable from the stew he ordered. Then they were allowed to share one bread roll between them._

 

_The man said something and one of the girl's softly responded. For some reason Olenna couldn't fathom, the man backhanded the girl so hard she fell right out of the booth. Olenna's driver sighed and dropped his head._

_Olenna thumped her cane like it was a cannon as she headed for the poor girl on the floor._

_"Slavery is illegal in the South, Sir. Did you not know this? Take the collars off these women immediately!"_

_Turning to stare at her with utter disdain, the repulsive toad responded in a very thick Northern accent._

 

_"I'm Craster and these are my slaves! It is only illegal in the cities now! In the village, I can own a slave, anyone can if they want to! Hell, just go ask anyone, they'll tell you. Stupid old cow, go home, you are too old for this new world."_

_"I am Olenna Tyrell and you will not insult me unless you are smart enough to do so well. Which you are not. Stupid cow was your best shot? Very well, if I cannot compel you to release these women, I will buy them from you."_

_Snorting, Craster sat back in his seat and grinned widely in a way that made the slaves all cringe._

 

_"Really? Hmm...I have five slaves. You cannot afford to give me anything that would let you buy all five. You'd have to give me a job and an apartment in the main city, with a small seat on the Council."_

_"What is your profession, Sir?"_

_"I am a pig farmer now. Used to be a gym teacher once, believe it or not."_

_"Oh, I believe it, all right. A girl's gym teacher, I'm betting. And I'm betting you were a sex offender then as well as now. How about more land for your farm, more supplies that you need? How about a very large house to go with your farm?"_

 

_"That will get you the useless whore bleeding on the new dress I bought her. Otherwise, if you don't buy her, when we get home, she will pay in screams for that dress being stained."_

_Olenna looked at the ragged dress and scoffed at the man._

_"If that is a new dress, I would hate to see what they wore before. You will never touch this young lady again, Caster. She is mine now and I will keep my promise. A new home and new supplies for your farm shall arrive within two days. I am sorry, ladies that I cannot take you all."_

_Olenna had to continually convince the woman with the bloody lip that she was no longer a slave. Once Gilly accepted that Craster no longed owned her, she had to accept that she was no longer a slave._

 

Now Olenna needed Gilly to understand that she is free of being treated like a slave. It is a slow going process. Fastening pearls to her ears, sliding the pearl ring on and then the necklace, Olenna spoke to Gilly.

"Do you remember what I did after I got you safely here to your new home? What I did to Craster?"

Gilly nodded and smiled.

 

"I am grateful for that too. I can't imagine the surprise on his face when the men that came with supplies brought guns! I am glad he is dead and you were kind enough to leave the farm to the ladies! I hated the farm, but they liked the farm, just not the farmer."

"Listen to me. I will never hurt you, I will never cause you humiliation or pain. And you see what I do to those that hurt you. Now, why don't you go get some tea and calm yourself. I am going to this meeting and will see you when I return."

 

Olenna entered the council room to find Kevan and Tywin had already arrived. After she sat down, Petyr and Varys slipped in and found their seats. They waited for ten minutes before Gregor burst through the doors in his usual fashion and slammed his immense bulk into a chair.

Varys leaned forward and spoke in a lilting soft voice.

"My birds have brought news from all over. The North has become Cannibal in it's majority. Different tribes all over with a King who rules them all, his name is Styr. An interesting thing is this Ramsay Bolton and his scientist Qyburn are calling themselves controlled infected. The man who Cersei was seeking for her son. Sansa Stark has married Ramsay and they, as well as Jon Stark, Theon Greyjoy and several others they collected are infected, but act exactly as us. It is a form of cure, I suppose. Styr wants them dead, of course."

 

Gregor yawned openly.

"There is a resistance of non infected that are also involved in this Northern tussle. A group of non infected that save other non infected and organize actual attacks against the cannibals to reclaim their land. The leader of this group is Cersei Lannister."

Tywin jerked slightly then gave a slight smile.

"Of course my daughter would find a way to be a leader again."

 

"Also, as I told Petyr of this earlier so he could have time for composure, the mountains are crawling with cannibals too. Lysa, Petyr's wife was murdered by a cannibal tribe who has taken over the fortress. It is led by Jaime Lannister and Loras Tyrell. Margeary's body was found on the mountain. I am very sorry, Olenna."

Peytr looked as sad as he could manage, Olenna blinked away sudden tears, envisioning her grandchildren. Kevan lowered his head and Tywin's eyes looked sharp then he nodded, clearing his throat.

"Please continue, Varys."

"Well, Jaime and Loras are gathering as many cannibals they can and training them to be an army. One that eats their enemy. They are planning to attack the South. And while we are in a war with the Targaryens we might not be able to protect ourselves from these attacks. It is a concern."

 

Gregor leaned back and the wood creaked in protest.

"It won't be a concern. How many have they gathered so far for this army?"

"Seventy people so far, Gregor."

"Seventy? That's it? It is no real threat, Varys."

"If Jaime and Loras decide to plead their case to Styr, if Styr likes the idea, the whole of Northern cannibals could become a very great concern."

 

"I will dispatch some men to destroy the little rock tribe then. Any other news, Varys?"

Tywin looked a tad upset, thinking of Jaime being killed by the Mountain's men but he knew there was no other option. Varys nodded and watched Tywin with glittering eyes as he continued.

"From the South came a very interesting whisper. A dwarf was sold upon a slaver's stage and bought by Viserys Targaryen. It was noticeable to some that it was Tyrion Lannister. Word of mouth has grown, of course. Viserys makes him wear a jester's costume. It was confirmed by three children that have seen him before, it was definitely Tyrion wearing a slave collar and a costume that jingles."

 

Olenna fanned herself and watched Tywin as the man's eyes blazed and his hands clutched hard at the table. When his words burst from his mouth, deep and harsh, it was stunning.

"I WILL NOT HAVE IT. MY DAUGHTER IS FIGHTING A WAR IN THE NORTH! MY ELDEST SON IS PREPARING FOR A WAR WITH THE SOUTH! AND MY YOUNGEST SON IS A SLAVE JESTER TO THE ENEMY? I WILL NOT HAVE IT!"

 

Gregor grinned and wondered if the old man was going to have a heart attack. He certainly hoped so. It would be hard to pretend sorrow at the funeral. He hoped all three of these old assholes dropped dead.

Tywin collected himself and spoke again, his tone clipped and angry.

"This insult to me cannot stand. No Lannister is a slave, even to the lowest of us. Gregor, I want my son rescued immediately. Do whatever you must to make that happen."

 


	47. Guidance For Pay

Arya felt...disgusting. But her flesh wasn't burning or her head and that was something. She carefully lifted the wet rag off her eyes and saw brownish water dripping from it. Her entire body was covered in some sort of greasy cream that made her flesh numb.

Her limbs were bright pink but the blisters were gone and so was the extreme redness. That is also when Arya discovered that she was naked under the soiled sheet that covered her body. Wrapping the sheet around herself, Arya slowly stood up and wiped sand off backside and legs.

 

A large tree had been providing her shade and even through the protective cream upon her body, Arya could feel the sun. The tree was very different from any Arya had seen before. She had no clue where she was.

Arya went towards a group of people that seemed to be milling about nearby. Grimacing at the feel of her slippery flesh, Arya headed for the strange looking tribe. She figured it out by the time she reached them.

"Ferals! You are a tribe of ferals!"

 

Her mother always did tell Arya she never learned to shut her mouth. However, Arya's mother also said never go near or trust a feral and this group just proved her wrong. They saved her and helped her. 

A smile formed on Arya's lips and she was about to thank them when one of them spoke.

"That was my washcloth. You owe me for it."

"Wh..what?"

 

Arya looked at the young man who said that and he was dead serious. He wore a necklace made of some animal teeth and a colorful silk jumpsuit, handsome but he meant what he had said. A woman sitting on a rock, knitting a sweater spoke around a cigarette in her mouth.

"That was my sheet and you owe me for it."

She was at a loss and stared at these strange folks, spreading out her arms.

"I...I don't have much to trade. I have some money, I guess."

 

She was about to ask where her items were when they all started laughing.

"Girl, you have nothing but a rented washcloth and rented sheet. And the medicine you wear on your flesh, which I made, so you owe me too."

Arya stared at the tall man wearing multi colored braided hair down to his shoulders. A long flowing robe and tight jeans were his only clothing.

"But...I had a boat, some supplies, weapons and..."

 

The laughter drowned out Arya's words. After a moment, the man raised his hand and everyone's laughter died down. He smirked at Arya and spoke in a very soft, calm tone that had just a touch of dark amusement to it.

"You had a boat, cash, supplies and weapons? Well, now we have a boat, supplies and weapons, or at least some of us do. Ever hear of 'Finders Keepers', it's a game we like to play here. If you really wanted those items, you would have kept them better."

Arya exploded at the twisted logic.

"I! I was sick! I was unaware that I was being ROBBED as I lay dying!"

The group went between laughing and making loud dramatic sympathy sounds to taunt Arya until the man raised his hand again.

 

"And while you lay there, we chose to help you. We lent you medication, a sheet, a cloth, we gave you water, food and shelter while you were ill. That has a cost. You could have traded your items with us but you lost them. How sad for you. What is your name, girl?"

"Arya Stark, from the North."

"Ah, the North, I thought so with that heavy accent! We have been North, before it all became cannibal. This last year we didn't fully visit the North. It felt wrong, we got to the borders and felt that the storm was coming, I felt the doom and we left fast. We lost a few family members in our rush. Well, you are a refugee from the North then. And now you are just a girl named Arya with nothing but a washcloth and sheet in a place you do not know. It really is a very sad story, girl."

"Where am I then? And do any of you have names?"

 

Arya stuck up her chin and tried to speak as if she were not bothered but there was a small tremor in her fingers as they worried at the sheet she wore. 

 

"You may call me J. You are standing in the midst of the camp of a feral tribe. Meet my family, the Guidance tribe. We are not the largest nor richest nor strongest feral tribe, but we are truly the blessed. Few tribes bother us, they sense too, they sense what we are doing, the greatest mission is gifted to us. And now we have cash, a boat and supplies, plus weapons. See how truly blessed we are! And you, dearest girl, we have cared for you and healed you. Perhaps you are lucky too, maybe you are blessed as well. Because you will need it to figure out what to do next."

Arya shifted from foot to foot wondering if they were all crazy.

"Girl, you have no clothing, no shoes, not even water to drink or food to eat and you already owe some members of this tribe. How are you earning to live? How are you paying your debt to those who already gave you things you needed? Oh dear...seems you are in a pickle."

Clearing her throat, Arya thought fast and nodded.

 

"Okay. I see how this works now. Okay. I can work for what I have already used and for what I need. I can work for each of you that I owed for a reasonable time to pay it off. Then I can work for food, water and stuff, right? Yeah?"

The man gave a slight smile and nodded.

"Exactly. Glad you understand. Or at least that you are trying to understand."

Arya had no idea what he meant by that. She was given a water bottle, a bowl of fruit and a sandwich. And a notebook with a pencil. She was told she would need it to keep track of her debts. That should have warned her. It didn't.

 

It occurred to Arya late that night that no one ever did tell her where they were.  Arya was too tired and sore to bother trying to ask these ferals anything. They were more slippery than her own newly greased up skin. 

Any time she spoke with someone, they somehow would talk her into doing things for them and those were folks she didn't owe! Others she spoke with would offer her food, drink or anything really, then afterwards, tell her she owed them for it.

One day has passed with this tribe and she owes enough debt that she will be working for this tribe for six months! 

 

She has dug trenches and then covered up the waste in them. Hauled her own former boat onto a track with wheels, packed up bags full of medical supplies, distilled water, washed dirty dishes.

Babysat four dirty children that spit on her and kept her running and swimming for hours. Hand washed and dried clothing. Stirred a stew until her arm nearly fell off and skinned four rabbits. 

Staggering a bit, Arya wandered off to find a place to lay her sheet away from the others to sleep. A shadow came over her, blocking the small moonlit spot she was checking out.

"Don't go too far. You still owe us. And you'll die on your own if you kept going in that direction. It leads straight into the desert."

"I am not running away, I pay what I owe. I just wanted a place to sleep that no one can rob me or tell me that I owe them for the spot."

 

J smirked and patted Arya's hair, making her frown deeply. 

"You are so funny, little girl. Don't worry, you are safe tonight. What can anyone steal from you? Water bottle, old sheet and your ratty boots? Who would want to wear that outfit of yours? You are very lucky that Gendry let you buy back your clothing. Lucky. See? It's a good thing you ran into us, Arya. Maybe you needed a little Guidance in your life. Enjoy your sleep. We are going to be moving on soon. This was just a small rest before our next journey. It looks like you'll be coming with us, Arya."

"Where are you going?"

"The desert. We follow our senses and that is where we are pulled, where we must go. Maybe you will be a huge part of this next journey. Or maybe you'll die of heatstroke while trying to pay off your debt. It will be interesting to see how this goes for you. Well, have a restful, peaceful sleep, girl."

 


	48. Yanking On My Chain

Viserys smiled sweetly at Jorah, who stiffened at the malice hidden within the handsome features.

"I want you to take the little jester to my tailor, have him fitted for a suitable costume. Tell Lancel to give him my colors and golden bells, please. Also, take my  new chef to his new kitchen. Instruct the staff to assist him. Boy, do not even think of poisoning me, as everything you make for me, I will have your sister try first."

"I would not waste my cooking talents by poisoning the food, Master. It goes against everything in me as a chef."

 

Viserys gave a small chuckle and stroked Jeyne's hair while smirking at the boy. He was mildly disappointed when the slave merely ignored the action.  The girl stiffening under his touch improved his mood almost immediately however.

He was already planning this little feral's first bit of taming and was caught between impatient to be alone with Jeyne and his own enjoyment of the clear discomfort and upset on Tyrion and Jorah's faces.

Hot Pie gave Jeyne a very intense look that she returned with a quick smile that worried Tyrion deeply. 

 

Viserys grinned at Jorah's clear discomfort and waved airily at him.

"Go on now, shoo, shoo! While the little jester gets fitted and feral turned chef prepares my dinner, I shall spend some quality time with my feral, flexible Jeyne. Then she shall eat every portion of my dinner and drink from every cup I do, just in case her brother decides to be sneaky. So bye bye now, thank you, Jorah, shoo."

 

Jorah gave a tiny whack to Hot Pie's head as the feral softly growled and shoved the reluctant men forward out of the room. He wasn't thrilled with it either but then again, he knew his worry was different than theirs. That almost made him feel sad for a moment.

Shaking the way too familiar feeling away almost too easily, Jorah worried that Jeyne will try something stupid. That she will allow the dragon to eat her. That would lead to guilt because Jorah knew she would end up dead. 

That would only make Hot Pie and Tyrion want revenge or escape and Jorah knew both would try something stupid. The dragon would appear and if they were lucky they might not end up dead. But they probably would and that would be three more to add to Jorah's chain of guilt.

 

Tyrion looked up at Jorah as they went into an elevator to go down to the kitchens and his face was full of disgust.

"You are a fucking worm. What if that girl decides to fight him or provoke him or try to kill him or escape? She is a feral, not some trained slave, Jorah! And you left her that way just for his amusement to tame her himself? If she dies, if she is maimed or worse, it's your fault. And hell, if she is clever and does escape or kill him, that would be your fault too! Fucked either way, how will you ever live with that?"

Hot Pie gave a tiny burst of laughter and nudged Tyrion.

 

"The same way he lives with his other guilt and shames. He just lets it all ghost chain behind him, accepting the weight like a martyr and yet blindly, constantly adding to it. Jorah is a conflicted man but he isn't weakened by it, he is only weakened by this Dany. She isn't here but the man here keeps Jorah on a leash without her. He will feel bad for whatever happens to us but he won't ever help us. Don't bother with him, discount him, he means nothing, Tyrion."

Jorah growled the same way Hot Pie had and came forward to knock the feral on his ass.

"I do mean something, boy. You will show me respect, I am your better, not your fucking slave buddy. Your sister was quite clearly warned by me about her Master's temper. Remember? So if Jeyne decides to provoke him there isn't a thing I can do about that. I won't feel guilty over it. And I won't feel guilty over either of you if you try and do something stupid. Now get down that hallway and turn left, it's the kitchens."

 

Tyrion and Hot Pie walked ahead of Jorah and ignored him, speaking quietly.

"Hot Pie, you know your sister way better than I do, yet you don't seem quite as worried. So you can comfort me as strange or rude as that may seem. Will she be okay and let him....let Viserys do...what he wants to?"

The flicker of a swaying lantern seemed to give Hot Pie a sudden sneaky smirking feature and Tyrion heard the feral whisper back.

 

"Jeyne is about to be the feral that Viserys said he wanted. And you know what they say about that..."

With a groan, Tyrion replied,

"Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it."

 

Nodding, Hot Pie walked into the massive kitchen, looking around with actual delight. Tyrion sidled up to him and tried to catch his attention again.

"Please tell me that doesn't involve her provoking, running or attacking him!" 

Hot Pie sighed and looked down at Tyrion.

"Listen. I am concerned for her too, but there is nothing I can do to help her right now. Jeyne will do the best she can to keep herself safe, she will do what she does best. And so will I."

 

Tyrion had only seconds before Jorah was upon them.

"And what do you each do best?"

"Survive and when fucked, we look for guidance."

Jorah yanked Tyrion out of his way by the collar and grumbled orders to the few servants. He then gave an endless lecture to Hot Pie on behavior and of the basic rules he should follow. 

 

The chef could have cared less and nodded while scanning the kitchen, already planning his menu. Jorah rolled his eyes and decided to deal with the disrespect later. The boy was truly interested in his new position and that was good enough.

"Just remember what I have said. Oh, and you will be checked before you leave this room everyday. And every single thing in here will be accounted for so don't bother attempting to smuggle anything."

Jorah just wanted to make sure the feral wouldn't cause trouble and then he dragged the dwarf towards the elevator again.

"What were the two of you discussing?"

 

Tyrion looked up at Jorah with the solemn truthful eyes of a reverend.

"We were exchanging casserole recipes."

"You are an asshole, Tyrion."

With a wide smile, Tyrion got into the elevator and leaned against the wall as if he hadn't a care in the world.

 

"Jorah, with all respect due to whatever the hell position you are here, go fuck yourself. Like really hard too, really get into it. In fact, I would like it if you would fuck yourself away from here, as far as you can get, then fuck yourself all the way back, then fuck off again. Respectfully."

When the elevator doors opened to the tailor's quarters, Tyrion left a tooth behind in the elevator, along with some vomit. Tyrion remained silent while Jorah allowed him to use a bathroom to clean himself up.

The Lancel squealed like a child at a present upon seeing Tyrion and nearly danced around the room. Tyrion rolled his eyes but said nothing when Jorah's eyes landed upon him.

 

Lancel giggled with some malice.

"Ohh, I never did like you anymore than your dad or sister did. This is going to be amazing! I will finally be able to like you and your corny jokes will finally have real entertainment value. But oh, the images, the ideas! Oh, the outfits I am going to make for you! Just wait, stand right there, Tyrion! Don't move! Oh this is the best day ever!"

"I see that drug addiction finally took full hold, huh? You used to be so handsome, young man, look at you now. Your father is a pompous dick but he would have helped you, Lancel. Your betrayal must have nearly crushed him. Your hands shake, when was the last time you washed your hair, lad?" 

"Shut the fuck up, Tyrion! Slave! Let me have my moment to gloat and let my creativity flow!"

 

He managed to keep his mouth shut all the way until Lancel, rebirthed as a drugged out tailor, showed Tyrion his first design idea. Then it was Jorah rolling his eyes. 

"Do you need your eyes checked or do you assume your leader is a pedophile? Look again at your design, man! He doesn't want a little boy to spank and tickle balls with! He wants an entertainer, not of the adult sort! What is wrong with you?"

"How dare you? Excuse me but you have no say in what you wear, slave!"

"Jorah, look at this, would you? I would look like a boy dressed as a sailor! What does that say to you?"

 

Wincing, Jorah glanced at the quick sketch, not really wanting to get involved, then did a double take.

"What the fuck? No, NO! What the hell is wrong with you, Lancel? Start over, I told you, Viserys said his colors, bells and make it a jester costume! Get your personal fantasies out of your leader's fantasies."

Loras was insulted and began to pout while nearly destroying his paper. His painted black fingernails ripped through the page and the nose ring glittered in the light. Tyrion counted the various piercings while the angry cousin turned stranger with greasy hair started anew.

Then Tyrion counted how many times the man paused to poke his pencil stub at his heavily black lined eyes, causing streaks down his cheeks.

 

A new sketch was thrust into his face and Tyrion gave a very loud groan. Jorah looked at it and smirked down at Tyrion.

"Now that is something Viserys would love. Don't you think, jester? The bells on the cap and shoes are adorable. Perfect."

Tyrion somberly looked up at Jorah and spoke with soft, grave honesty.

"I hate you. I loathe the fact that we share this planet and this air. If I knew how to curse you, I would. You might wish to stop enjoying my torment so much. Someday you might find yourself in the position of needing my assistance and I am not in the habit of assisting my enemies."

 

Jorah stared at the little man and waited for the man to look away. It did not happen and the tailor was watching out of the corner of his eye.

His words were hard and deliberate as he used his body to dominate Tyrion's space, but the stubborn little shit refused to break his gaze.

"I am not your enemy, I am your better. I am your trainer, you are the slave, not my equal and I don't care if you hate me. You will show respect and you will not challenge me. I can do worse to you than take a tooth or punch your gut. Do you understand that yet? No, I can see that you don't. Fine, make it be hard on yourself, that's fine. You have five seconds to drop your eyes or I'm going to make your punishment for challenging me twice as bad."

 

Tyrion wanted so badly to give in, he really did but he was still a Lannister apparently. Oh wouldn't his fucking father be proud now.

"I can't, Jorah. There is only so far I can bend, you will be satisfied with that. I will obey and wear the silly costume. And I have done nothing worth being beaten to a pulp. Won't Viserys be upset if I am unable to perform because I am injured? Have you considered your exalted King's feelings?"

Lancel gasped as Jorah's face darkened and Tyrion knew he had gone too far.

He gave a tiny bitter laugh as the two of them stared at him as if he were crazed. 

 

The greasy haired Lancel actually leaned forward and hissed,

"Have you gone loopy, Tyrion?"

Shaking his head, Tyrion cheerfully replied.

"No, it's just...I was worried that Jeyne or Hot Pie would do something rash and get themselves hurt or killed. Whoops."

 

Tyrion watched almost in fascination as Jorah's wrath landed upon him.

He screamed like a baby scalded in hot water and the humiliation crashed over him like a tsunami. His cousin watched in amused sympathy, eventually wincing with each strike.

Jorah had Tyrion over his knee as if he were a child and his thick belt snapped down ruthlessly upon the formerly milk white buttocks. To have the tailor watch a pants down beating was striking Tyrion's ego harder than the belt hit his well swollen ass.

"I APOLOGIZE, MERCY, UNCLE, WHATEVER, JUST PLEASE STOP! I AM SORRY, FORGIVE ME I WON'T DO IT AGAIN!"

 

Jorah finally stopped and allowed the tear and snot stained little man to pull up his pants.

"Do I have any ass left?"

The words were weak and the voice was hoarse from screaming, hitched from crying but Tyrion forced them out.

 

Lancel gave a tiny disapproving purse of his lips and a warning shake from his head.

Jorah stared at Tyrion then gave a small chuckle and stood up, putting his belt back on.

"Such a feisty little fucker, aren't you? Now shut up and get measured for your new costume." 

 

It killed Tyrion not to reply but his ass was a throbbing fire and his ego was feeling just as abused.

He kept his eyes down and mouth shut for at least ten minutes. Jorah used his belt on Tyrion's thighs after the man pushed his cousin for poking him with a needle. Then swearing at Jorah and Lancel. 

By the time Lancel was sewing fabric, Tyrion had been gagged. Jorah kept finding himself amused that it was the dwarf that turned out to be the rebellious one.


	49. Dragon vs. Feral

The second the room was empty of all but the two of them, Jeyne spun away from Viserys. She started another dance, the light from the hanging lanterns casting stripes across her skin as she spun and contorted.

Viserys walked around her as she moved, his eyes missing nothing as he stalked closer. Every time he got within grasping reach, Jeyne would leap, spin or simply flip away. At first he seemed amused by this but his look grew hungrier.

"I do enjoy the dancing, pet, but I want to explore your body now."

 

"No, thank you. Master."

Viserys shook his head fast as if he had something in his ears. He looked genuinely confused and shocked, staring at the dancing, uncaring girl.

"What? What did you say?"

"No, thank you. Master. I'm still dancing, it helps my stress."

"It doesn't work that way. I decide what you do and don't do. You are done dancing now and I want you to come here. I don't care if you don't want to. Stop dancing. Come here. Now, Jeyne."

 

With a sly grin, Jeyne stopped dancing and stalked forward, staying just out of reach. She looked at the growing anger on Viserys's face and laughed. Now the shock grew again and that made her laugh again.

Viserys clenched his teeth and fists, his eyes beginning a glow, the warning of danger in his tone.

"You dare to defy me while laughing right in my face, bitch?"

Jeyne tilted her head and kept her distance while answering, feeling the axe above her neck and she spoke. Careful now, so careful.

 

"I laugh because I don't understand this shock and anger. I laugh because I am a feral and do not understand this behavior of kings."

She felt a flare of satisfaction as she watched the smug look fill that handsome, spiteful face. Viserys was vain enough for his anger to be appeased by a feral seeing him as a king. It made Jeyne gain more confidence and she continued.

"Only a king is handsome, smart and rich. Only a king gets mad when he gets what he asks for. You wanted a Northern feral, wild and talented. This what Jorah said when he bought us. That is what I am. Now you are angry at who I am, what I am? Will you be angry if my brother's food tastes good? Throw it at the wall? Or if the little man makes you laugh, will you kick him into the fireplace?"

 

Viserys couldn't seem to decide if he was insulted or flattered. He decided perhaps she was right, at least by a simple feral point of view. The girl was a feral and couldn't be expected to act like anything else.

At least not until he has tamed and trained her. And wasn't the challenge of her the point after all? So Viserys smirked and decided to enjoy the girl's behavior. He began to circle her and he admired how her body moved and swayed to keep out of his hands.

"I am not only a king, I am your Master. That means you do as I want you to, no matter what you want. Only what I want matters and I will help you learn that."

 

He ran one hand down her arm and the feral swayed as if to a beat in her head but didn't move away from the touch. Viserys smirked and spoke softly, in a warm, soothing tone.

"I want to see what you can do with your mouth, with your whole body. You aren't a virgin, I am sure you know some dirty, naughty tricks that your feral boyfriends taught you." 

Jeyne tilted her head as if considering this and then gave a brilliant smile to Viserys.

 

"Well, that doesn't sound like much fun. No, thank you. Master."

This time Viserys decided it was time to teach this stupid feral she can't simply tell him no. He wrenched her arm hard behind her back, making Jeyne gasp in pain. Dragging her to his bedroom, Viserys threw her hard enough for the bed to squeak in protest as she landed on it.

Ripping his shirt off, Viserys dove over Jeyne and bared his teeth, words spitting into her face. His face was terrifying and his eyes seemed to drill into hers.

"You are my slave, I can do anything I want with you, to you. Do you understand that simple concept, girl? I can fuck you, I can beat you, I can kill you or sell you to my worst filthiest brothel. Do you understand?"

 

Jeyne gave a bright grin full of sharp teeth of her own and spat her own answer back at Viserys.

"I am your slave and you want me to let you do anything you want to me. So here is what you should do. Kill me, beat my body then sell it to the worst filthiest brothel then pay to fuck my corpse."

Viserys stared down at her and shook his head slightly, his eyebrows high in confusion.

"What is wrong with you? Are you crazy, are you fucked up in the head, girl?"

"You have no idea how much, Master."

 

Jeyne giggled when she replied and then Viserys found himself on the floor, staring at the ceiling. It took a moment for it to register what had happened. He rubbed his chest where the girl had kicked him with both feet then sat up.

The bed was empty and Viserys looked about to find the girl somehow kneeling upon his highest dresser.

"Are you hoping to get out of being punished for hurting your Master? It won't work. I'm going to hurt you until you beg for mercy, you need to understand to NEVER strike your Master!"

Viserys yanked a whip off his wall and rolled his shoulder then started towards the dresser. His eyes narrowed and glowed, his skin seemed to pale and get thinner across the sharp bones of his face. 

"You have angered me, brought out the dragon in me, feral bitch. Now you have to learn the very hard way. Get off that dresser and don't make it worse for yourself."

 

Viserys cracked the whip and watched the girl's eyes follow it and flinch at the sound. His next swing was upwards and caught her on the thigh. With a yelp, Jeyne leaped off the dresser but still did not come to him.

Instead, the girl decided to continue to evade the whip, running about the room. Snarling, Viserys continued to expertly wield his whip. The girl was fast but the whip caught her several times, leaving bleeding lines that sprayed over the furniture lightly as Jeyne kept jumping, rolling and climbing to get out of range.

She was tiring and Jeyne saw that Viserys was too, his arm must hurt nearly as bad as her own wounds. It was time for words.

 

Holding out an arm, palm upwards, as if pleading, Jeyne spoke.

"I don't want to let you just use my body. I want to feel pleasure too and you seem too selfish to do that. Which is such a pity, that is why even though you are a king, even though you are a master, handsome and rich...why the females do not seek you out. Men care about how many females they can just take and make do anything. Women do not care about that, women want to know if a man can satisfy, if he is man enough to satisfy a woman. When the females see your women, they are saying that you offer no pleasure at all. From slaves to high born women, the females always learn of these things and gossip of it."

Viserys sneered and sent the whip against her arm, though it was a weaker blow. Jeyne danced a little closer and bled freely without care on her shredded dress and the rug. Her body was now striped with light from the lanterns and fireplace as well as with blood and purple lines.

 

Most female and male slaves would be sobbing, screaming, huddled on the ground begging for mercy by now. Not this little feral slave, no she stood tall and the pain was clear in her eyes but she did not surrender.

Viserys couldn't comprehend it and Jorah had really hit the mark. She was unique. And the way Jeyne dared to speak to him? He should cut out her tongue or at least sew her mouth shut for a few days. And yet, he didn't. He was intrigued, he felt interested in her strange, feral thoughts and actions.

"Why should I give a fuck if the cunts want to gossip? Why should I care if a woman gets pleasure, all that matters is my pleasure."

 

Jeyne tilted her head as if she couldn't understand Viserys's attitude at all.

"It matters because you are a king and everyone should know and admire you. Women gossip, children and men sometimes hear and repeat it themselves. A king needs to have a wife to give him heirs. A king should have a harem of women for pleasure if he chooses. A king should have women that would dream of just one night with him. They can lie in their beds and masturbate to the idea of being had by the most handsome royal in the land. But instead, females shiver in fear or turn cold, knowing that you are a man that cannot or does not offer any pleasure. Only the most greedy of women would look past that and instead only want to steal your power and riches as your wife."

The words struck hard and Jeyne nearly crowed her triumph. Instead she began to inch closer, enjoying how his eyes and cock have grown larger. Careful now, so careful.

 

"Even if you simply ordered your slaves or wives to say you were the best in the world, it wouldn't matter. It's in the eyes, in the way we move the next time we are seen and more. It isn't words that matter with women as much as instinct and our observations. It is not a good gossip for women to have about a handsome, rich, powerful young single king."

Viserys smirked and caressed the whip, allowing his prey to come closer on her own but her words burned him.

"And do you think if I pleasured you that gossip would change? Hmmm?"

Careful, careful and Jeyne threw caution to the wind.

 

"I'm not sure if you know how to pleasure a woman, Master. It seems like you never have done so before, how do we know if you'd be any good at it?"

For a moment the room was silent, the air was still and Viserys seemed a carved marble statue of classic mad emperor status. Jeyne never saw a non feral move so fast in her life. The whip was left behind but a lovely, ornate blade was in his hand instead.

The prick of pain at her left eye and she felt a tear of blood drip down her cheek. Viserys had the most awful smirk upon his features and his eyes glistened with sadism, insult and lust.

"I'll tell you one woman I did always satisfy. Simply because I chose to let her feel pleasure. What kind of brother would I be to deny her that? So little feral pet, let me show you a knife trick I taught her. She told me she hates how much she loves it because it was so shameful. Let's see if you agree or not. Then you can tell the other girls and you can all take a fucking vote on the matter."

 

Jeyne had to completely agree with Viserys's sister.

She was trembling, sobbing and trying to breathe. Three mind blowing times did Viserys bring her to a powerful orgasm. Once with his own cock, twice with his knife. Never had she felt so much pain, pleasure and humiliation all at once and Jeyne was unable to speak or think.

"Now the gossip will change, won't it, pet?"

Nodding, Jeyne then shocked the man one more time by curling herself around him and falling asleep. She dreamed of revenge on her tribe for just leaving them to fend for themselves. Dreamed that they watched, shocked to see her after they so callously left her and her brother.

Dreamed of leading a king and his army past the tribe to do their work for them. Maybe Jeyne was the one to be able to save the world, not the Guidance.


	50. Backwards And Upside Down

Arya had no time for shock when her home was attacked, she just adapted as she had to. Trying to save her three friends was near heroic in her mind. It was a good and honorable action that she could focus on, not her usual attitude.

Usually, Arya was considered a bit of a thief, a sneak as well. It was true and it was well used talent as well as her ability to fight. Not to mention her stubbornness carries her through any challenge.

 

None of these things matter anymore.

Arya knows nothing.

Her sneaking, her thievery skills, her fighting and weaponry skills were mediocre at best. She has discovered this the hard way.

 

Everything with this tribe was backwards and upside down. Arya thought back to Hot Pie and Jeyne and knew now that she had truly no understanding of ferals or how they act or think.

She was truly learning it the hard way.

 

"Hey, that's mine, give it back! Gendry! Asshole! Hey! That is mine! Don't steal my hairbrush, give it back! I spent all day looking for that!"

Arya fumed, stomping after him. Gendry kept walking, wearing a shit eating grin. Arya growled, grabbing his arm to stop him. She tried to wrestle the hairbrush out of his hands.

"You are such a jerk, you went into my tent and took it! You stole my hairbrush and look at my hair. Give it back right now."

 

Gendry grinned at the snarled mess on Arya's head and chuckled. He kept the plastic brush in his steel grip, letting Arya try to open his fist.

"Your hair looks like birds have been nesting in it. You should get a hairbrush for it. This one is mine, but I can lend it to you for something if you'd like?"

She nearly screamed in frustration.

"I can PROVE that is my hairbrush! It has my damned initials on it! Look, in marker, black letters!"

 

With a cocked eyebrow, Gendry gave an exaggerated look over at the brush and then nodded thoughtfully at the sight of the initials. He gave an easy smirk to the angry girl and responded slowly and carefully.

"I see the letters. But remember that J told you things like names and initials don't matter so much here. If this was yours and you truly wanted to keep it, you would have taken better care to protect it."

Gendry grinned wider to see others gathering around to watch, all of them smirking or laughing outright.

 

It wasn't often they had a new member, it wasn't ever before that it was a non-feral. It was fun to see what was considered an upper class house girl try to learn their ways and rules.

"I just saw this hairbrush and really needed a new one myself. I took the chance and it was easily there for the taking. I figured it wasn't needed and now it's mine. Did you wish to bargain to borrow it?"

Arya simply couldn't take anymore and the sneering audience on top of Gendry's gloating face was the last straw. With a roar of pure unrestrained fury, she attacked the handsome asshole thief.

She never landed a single kick or punch. Gendry saw it coming and was ready, relaxed and then she was in the air. Then Arya was landing on the sand with a bone jarring thud, staring into the sky, into the burning sun. 

 

Gendry bent over her and smiled. Arya wanted so very badly to take a hammer to his white teeth.

"Are you alright? Is the tantrum done now or should I carry you inside your tent, so baby girl can take a nap?"

The words sent everyone into gales of laughter and Arya gritted her teeth. She slapped his hand away when Gendry tried to help her stand. Arya ignored her own bright red face and quickly got to her feet, slapping sand off her clothes.

"You are such a fucking ass-nugget. You know that? Give me my damned brush. I want it back right now. I mean it."

More laughter and taunts towards Gendry about how he should be scared now or how he should toss her again until the girl started to learn.

 

J came through the small crowd and Gendry groaned. He leaned towards Arya and whispered, while he put the hairbrush in his pocket.

"If you are smart, you won't say what we are really talking about. Don't tell on me, you'll regret it, trust me. Keep it between us, it will be easier for you that way."

Arya couldn't understand if that was a threat or not but she shoved the jerk away and lifted her chin. The leader gracefully moved forward, robes flowing and even under the increasing heat, he looked cool and collected. Refreshed, even.

He gave a pleasant smile and looked questioningly at Arya and Gendry.

 

"Am I missing something funny or exciting to draw such a crowd? I love a good show myself."

Ignoring Gendry's warning glance, Arya stepped up to J and spoke stiffly but respectfully.

"It is not a show, J and it isn't funny. Gendry stole my hairbrush. It has my initials on it, he went into my tent and took it. I want it back, please."

"The hairbrush that you worked so hard for? The one you got from Walda and had to do so much latrine duty for? That is a pity. You should have taken better care of it. Only you are at fault for not caring better for your property, but you seem to be taking it out on Gendry. I thought I saw you attacking him? Were you going to use a contest of strength to retrieve it? Were you willing to die or be killed for that hairbrush, Arya?"

 

Arya just stammered and stared for a moment as J pulled out a long thin flexible cane from his belt. 

"But...but...HE STOLE IT! Gendry didn't bargain with me for it and I left it inside my tent! I had a right to try and get back my property!"

The laughter surrounded her but J wasn't laughing though his eyes creased with gentle amusement at the girl.

"We are ferals, Arya. You are traveling with us, you must follow our lifestyle, dear, our rules. If you want to keep something, you will learn to make sure no one can take it from you. Gendry found the brush, it was not protected and he took it. You attempted to fight him to retrieve it and lost. You have learned a valuable lesson thanks to him. However, you have also earned yourself a punishment from me."

 

Arya stood there with her mouth open, her face red with indignation and a bit of fear.

J has always been nice but she was always aware of a very dangerous aura about him. This was the first time that Arya has seen him holding any form of a weapon.

"Since it is your first real infraction, I will only give you four strikes. Hold out your hands, palms up, girl."

 

Everyone stood in a close circle around her, Arya couldn't bolt even if she wanted to. Swallowing hard, Arya raised her shaking hands but blurted out,

"This is so stupid! I don't understand why I am being punished?"

 

J began to lightly tap the cane upon Arya's palms, just enough to tickle, sting and make her flesh sweat nervously. He looked over at the group and asked,

"Would someone be kind enough to tell the girl why she is receiving four strikes?" 

Shae leaned closer and called out a reply, smirking with anticipation of the new stupid girl's discipline. She was irritated by the new girl's constant misunderstandings and complaints of how hard she was worked.

"Arya is being punished for telling on Gendry. Ferals never snitch on each other, not even with other feral tribes. Ferals take care of their own issues."

 

The strikes were quite hard and Arya had blue and purple streaks on each hand for some time afterwards. Two stripes of pain whenever Arya used her hands which was constantly.

This upside down thought pattern was hard for Arya to catch onto.

 

A few days later, Arya tried to steal the brush back from Gendry. She managed to snag the brush and crawl quietly under the thunderous sound of Gendry snoring. Almost out of the tent when his hand wrapped around her ankle and Gendry's snoring turned into a chuckle.

"So close, right? Sorry, but I figured you would try to take the brush back, so I've been waiting each night. Glad you finally got around to it. Now I can get some real sleep. Should I kick your ass, put you over my knee and spank you like a bad little girl or wait till morning? Nah, then everyone would see your shaming. You don't want to J to know of it. Should listen to me more, should listen to all of us more, Arya."

Her other foot crashed into Gendry's chin and he let go of her, swearing.

 

Arya fled the tent, still clutching the brush but Gendry was right behind her. She panicked a little, he was too big for her to fight and hiding seemed the best option for now.

Leaping over two ferals trying to have sex in relative privacy, Arya headed for a small ruins nearby. As luck would have it, J was in the ruins reading some journals. 

To her dismay, Arya received another public caning the next morning, this time it was upon her thighs and back until she hissed, sobbed and yelped.

 

"Everyone, explain to our sad little new girl why she is beaten? Is it for stealing?"

A thunderous voice of ferals responded.

"NO!"

"Is she being punished for hurting Gendry to get away?"

"NO"

"She stole. Arya fought. She ran away. None of those things are wrong. What did our little thief do so wrong to get a strict punishment?"

"SHE GOT CAUGHT!"

"Exactly."

 

 


	51. Smoke And Mirrors

Shireen sniffed and smoke caught in the back of her throat. It did not make her cough, her whole life seems surrounded by the smell of smoke. A few months back, she almost died in the source of the smoke.

Would have if she hadn't met Dany and saw the question in the woman's eyes. Shireen had no longer anyway to avoid it and she had forced herself to confide in the woman. As well as snoop to find away around the witch's secret powers.

 

She pulled the hoodie far over her head and avoided any mirrors as she went down the darkened hallways. Unlike Dany, Shireen does not enjoy the attention of others. She does not dress to be noticed but to remain unseen.

Slipping past servants and soldiers as if she were escaping, even though no one seemed to care. This was Shireen's own campgrounds, these were her people and yet, old habits are hard to give up.

 

Dany was just finishing up a meeting with some of the wise officers that are helping them in this battle. Or was it an actual war? Shireen often couldn't tell and truly, didn't want to ask.

The men and women all nodded respectfully, titling her Lady Shireen. What does that mean? What is her status here? She was younger than everyone here and knew nothing to contribute to these meetings.

Dany insists that Shireen is too hard upon herself, that she is smart and is a huge asset. She smiled at the girl and beckoned her forward.

 

"Come! Sit with me, all I have left is this letter from my brother! Let's read it and see what he whines about now."

Shireen grinned and sat in a chair next to Dany.

They both enjoyed reading the self entitled man's continual stupid complaints.

 

Letters come from Viserys as much as Selyse. Both are full of excuses, declarations of love and loyalty. 

 

Neither of them ever offer apologies for what they have done to Dany or Shireen. Therefore to hide the pain, both use the letters as a way to make humor out of agony.

When the ladies took over the Fire tribe, Shireen showed mercy to her mother. The woman was imprisoned in a large old mansion with uncaring guards and a stone faced servant.

 

Dany had sent her brother a cold letter and sent messages so most of the Targaryen tribe headed for her. She made sure her brother wanted for nothing, but she had no intention of allowing him any real power.

Dany and Shireen have avoided facing the traitors who would have let them burn. In spite of both swearing that they had no idea of the sacrifices, they were not believed.

 

"What does he say?"

"My friend Jorah returned and brought Viserys exotic human gifts. A feral chef, a feral girl and...Tyrion Lannister, whom he has turned into a jester! That idiot! He has the son of my greatest enemy and turns him into a damned joke! We can use that man as a hostage, we can use him for information but my brother sees fit to just enslave him. If Tywin Lannister hears of it, how will this look for us? Damn it. Just writing Viserys won't do any good. I need Tyrion Lannister here. Ordering Viserys by letter to send him won't work."

Shireen bit her lip and sighed.

 

"You have to go yourself to get him if you want him. But Viserys might try to hurt you or come back with you to mess up our war. Or you could get hurt during the traveling! And I can't handle this all alone! I'm only sixteen, I can't run things yet."

Dany grabbed Shireen and caressed her face gently. The massive scars on one side of her face did not diminish from her lovely eyes. That was the one thing that Shireen was grateful for concerning her face.

"You are strong, smart and lovely. I will get you to believe that someday. This is your parents and that witch in your head telling you bad things. I am leaving your favorite consultant in charge while I am gone. Ser Davos. And he is going to work with you, I want you to show at every meeting, understand? Let him explain what you need to understand and help make choices. I won't be gone long and I promise you I will be safe. I need to bring that man here and if Viserys wants to follow, then let him. As long as he knows we run the show, right?"

 

Nodding, Shireen plastered a smile on her face to match Dany's but she noticed they both seemed to have troubled eyes. She caught their reflections in a damned mirror and looked away.

Dany hugged the girl from behind and whispered.

"Hey. Who was the one who really saved us? If you hadn't found the priestess's tricks, if you didn't know how to use them right...we'd be dead. Ser Davos would be dead and who knows how many more? You did that. With your intelligence, with your thirsty mind and your will. You saved us all and everyone here is grateful for that. You have so much to contribute, Shireen. These people are lucky to have you and they know it."

 

Shireen shrugged then looked down.

"True. And most of these same people that love me now would have watched me burn before. They would have been told I was a sacrifice and that would have been that. They would have dragged me crying and pleading to the pyre. And most of them think we are magic, Dany! Like, truly, they follow us like they did to my father and the witch! I don't want fanatics, Dany. I don't want to be worshiped, just accepted would be nice."

Dany grinned a little and nudged at the girl.

 

"Sweetie, these people saw us walk through fire. Even the witch never walked through it but we wore it like a damned cloak. She only put it on her hands and that stupid sword. We wore it and walked through a freaking pyre willingly to come out the other side unharmed. What did you think everyone would think of seeing that? We did show them magic, Shireen."

 

_Shireen remembers the faces, even through the chemical blur causing stinging tears. She remembers everyone dropping to their knees._

_Wincing, Shireen recalls how her mother had screamed and tried to run into the fire. But her mother's screaming words were what damned her._

_"NO! HE CAN'T TAKE HER TOO! I CHANGED MY MIND, NOT MY DAUGHTER, PLEASE!"_

 

_Men had grabbed her mother then dropped her with them when Shireen emerged from the flames. Her mother groveled upon the ground, slithering after her daughter, sobbing, begging for forgiveness._

_Her father and the witch were the only two not upon the ground. They stood frozen, pale and mouths open as the two walked towards them. It was Dany that spoke._

_"If you are truly blessed by the Fire God then you can not be burnt. Are you certain of your favor with the God?"_

 

_Shireen had looked into her father's eyes and saw no begging for forgiveness. She only saw resolution and a terrible empty sadness as if he knew it was too far for redemption._

_With a voice full of a horrible compassion, Shireen had spoken next, looking at her father._

_"You may walk into the fire yourself or I can set you ablaze if you'd rather. Choose, both of you. Test your faiths as we have."_

_Stannis had given his daughter a brief nod of thanks for allowing his dignity. Without a word, without a single pause, the man walked into the fire. He screamed, he writhed and he died._

 

_As did the witch who had no choice but to walk next to him but Shireen only had eyes for her father._

 

_Afterwards, Shireen ordered that her mother be taken away._

_It was disconcerting how some of them looked at her, responded to her. The pity and disgust her face offered these people before was now seen as a loving sign of holy favor._

_All it would take was another person to show them a better trick and they would switch without reservation. Shireen could never trust them._

 

_But she does trust Ser Davos._

_He was an old grizzled thief turned right hand man to her father. But he was her friend for as long as Shireen can remember. And when her father sent him away on some bogus trip, the man suspected something._

_His return was just as Dany and Shireen came through the fire. He was also the only one who quickly figured out their trick._

 

_He had hugged her tightly later that night and spoke in a voice choked with repressed tears.  
_

_"Ah, I am so sorry, sweetheart. I love you and I promise to serve you and protect you correctly this time."_

_Then the man stood up and wrinkled his nose, his eyes twinkling._

 

_"You might wish to go take a hot bath. Get the chemical stink off you. I will have to always keep in mind just how clever you can be!"_

 


	52. The Fruits Of Our Labor

Viserys was not a person with any real friends nor has he ever truly cared for anyone else. Any affection he had within him was given only to his sister Dany.

And she had betrayed him the first chance she had.

 

When Dany took his crown, she also took his people. Most of his able fighters and workers headed for the Fire tribe. Servants and slaves became bold enough to run to the tribe for work and shelter.

The blow to his pride had been terrible and Viserys never thought he would recover from it.

 

Until Jorah had returned with the three new slaves.

Viserys enjoys playing with his toys, using them until he breaks them. He doesn't break these three, he appreciates them for their own natures.

He also enjoys watching Jorah struggle not to lose his own temper.

Though he is in charge of the ferals basic training and care, Jorah struggles with them. Though the slaves do not challenge Viserys, they do continually clash with Jorah.

 

Viserys feels that intervening would be beneath him but he does enjoy the show. It's like watching a new trainer at a zoo of exotic slippery dangerous creatures.

 

The meals and snacks and drinks, it was all amazing. Hot Pie not only served incredible food but he was fun as well. He would play any games or engage in discussions eagerly when invited to.

He amused Viserys with being sarcastic, over dramatic and yet barely crossing the line of impudence. Hot Pie and Jeyne were clearly close and Viserys would often invite the boy to visit with his sister as a reward for obedience.

 

Jeyne was a wonderful mystery box that Viserys continually tried to open, pry into. She had dances, stories, sexual talents and a wild flair that Viserys enjoys. He allows her to be challenging as long as it always remains respectful. 

Tyrion was truly funny. His hatred of acting like a real jester makes his act even better. He does everything with an overdone acidic flair and his jokes were vulgar enough to even make Jeyne and Jorah blush.

 

But Tyrion would also listen to Viserys's complaints and issues. Truly listen and empathize as did Jeyne. Even Hot Pie seemed to actually value and care what Viserys said and not just because they were slaves.

Slowly, Tyrion began to offer small tidbits of advice, suggestions while Jeyne questioned why Viserys shouldn't desert this traitorous sister.

 

Be his own king and have his own crown.

Viserys found himself wanting the company of his pets over his people, his men, his advisors. What few were left, that is. His world outside of the hotel was a den of crime mostly. The people left have no real reason to be loyal to Viserys, they would expect something for taking on his wars.

 

The only reason they did not flee to join the Fire Tribe is most of them hate rules. They do not wish to have two Queens that will take away their right to own slaves, their crimes will no longer be ignored.

So they stay to huddle around Viserys. He was surrounded by pimps, madams, criminals, pirates and drug dealers. He still is in control of that portion of trade at least.

Dany might have made it illegal for slave and drug trades within the Fire Tribe, but the Targaryen family run by Viserys blatantly continues the two forbidden trades with a sadistic flourish.

 

Then things went missing. Some of Dany's old gold jewellery that she had cast aside because it was given to her by Viserys. The kitchen lost a few gold plates. Lancel reported needles, cloth and his best scissors all were stolen.

Jorah ripped apart the personal quarters that each of the three had been given generously by Viserys. He interrogated them, tried every tactic and even Viserys questioned the three.

Nothing was found and all three declared innocence.

 

Viserys fell into the habit of allowing Hot Pie, Tyrion and Jeyne as well as Jorah to have supper with him. Afterwards, they played cards or told stories or played music.

Viserys would have Jeyne and Tyrion do a performance some nights.

Most nights they also had conversation that Viserys would either be in tears laughing over it or truly intently involved.

 

Jorah doesn't like these games or discussions and that makes Viserys happy.

He is sure of the pets loyalty more than in his own man. If Dany called for Jorah, he would kill himself to reach her.

Viserys watched Jorah with the same suspicion that Jorah had for the slaves.

 

One night after dinner, Jeyne grinned at Viserys and spoke sweetly with a twinkle in her eye. Tyrion and Hot Pie had run off briefly after the table was cleared.

With large, warm eyes, Jeyne looked at her Master and took his hands while kneeling before him.

"Master, we have a tiny confession to make. We are ferals and Tyrion is a crafty little man. We were the naughty ones who stole those items. But this is why...you deserve so much more than we can offer."

 

Viserys watched with joy and Jorah rolled his eyes. Tyrion presented a small but well crafted gold crown.

It was in the shape of a long dragon and fit perfectly upon the blonde head.

 

"We used the blacksmith's work station to use the gold for your crown, Master. If your sister is cruel enough to cast her gold at you, then we shall use it for a better purpose. And no, the blacksmith didn't know. He doesn't often lock his windows."

With a delighted laugh, Viserys admired his crown in the mirror. Jeyne's voice held no fear of repercussion for stealing, only reverence in her lyrical soft tone.

 

Next, Hot Pie presented a long cloak. A velvet crimson wave of self importance with a blazing dragon sewn upon the back of the cloak.

"I shall return Lancel's needles but I am afraid I used all of the stolen cloth, Master. We wanted to see you dressed properly when you leave the hotel, Master. All should see and admire you, Master. They must be reminded that you are their king and you are not working for your sister. Dany might be Queen of her Fire Tribe but only you are the Targaryen King."

 

 

 


	53. Suck It Up

Arya's eyes were wide and in a whole new world.

Oh yes, her peepers were glued to the sight of Gendry's muscles flexing in the moonlight. He was practicing his yoga in only light pajama bottoms.  

A grin plastered on her face as she tried to remain quiet and unseen. Well, there were feelings alright but something told her that these weren't any feelings Sansa used to have.

The feelings weren't anything to do with love or of romance. Nope.

Arya shifted uncomfortably and blushed deeply but her eyes remained on her target.

 

When a hand wrapped around her mouth, Arya nearly vacated her body on a permanent basis.

"When I said you were going to have a test of your skills, this is not what I meant. Or was this a way of practicing your skills, dear? Even as my best pupil, you continue to earn the most discipline of all my tribe."

 

Arya nearly died.

Not from the punishment but from having the tribe watch it.

 

"My followers, please tell Arya is she being punished for practicing her spying skills?"

"NO."

"Gendry, please tell our new young member what she has done wrong?"

Having Gendry give a playful smirk at her, seeing in his eyes how much a little girl she was, it hurt much worse.

"Arya wasn't trying to gain information useful to her tribe. She was watching a tribe member for her own pleasures. Like a peeper would."

 

It was the first time she actually sobbed during her caning. The stick slicing at her back, buttocks and legs was terrible but the shame, it sunk her low. When it was over, J had to hold her to allow Arya time to calm down.

The others seemed shocked and Gendry looked genuinely sympathetic.

Arya ran off when one of them tried to speak and stayed as far as she could for the night.

 

When she woke up, J was sitting next to her. Scrambling up, Arya stared, still half asleep but shame reminded her eagerly of what had happened the night before.   

J smiled and began to pack Arya's items into her blanket.

"Do you think you are the first child to have a crush or interest in another member? But we cannot allow you to use your skills for the wrong things. What if you were bathing and another tribe member was watching you...how does that feel to you?"

 

Arya blushed and tears began to fall, causing her to swear in her head that she will learn how to never cry again.

J ruffled her hair for a moment then briefly hugged her.

"I am sorry, I know it hurts, the humiliation is terrible. One way or another, we all feel that way over intense crushes. You had your crush and it crushed you. It is over. The tribe is ready for your test. So you need to get over yourself. You need to swallow those feelings or just leave them here like trash. Let it go."

 

Arya gave a dispirited snort and began to kick at a rock while muttering.

"Yeah, I don't have your magical thinking and logic yet. Things hurt, things anger me, I can't help feelings, they happen. And I am embarrassed, how can I ever face Gendry? How can I look at any of them now? Maybe-"

A hand grabbed Arya's chin and she found herself staring into the swirling depths of her new leader's eyes.

They were not sympathetic any longer and she felt swallowed by J's will.

 

"Everyone has pain and sorrows, Tragedies and degradation will happen through life. Ferals recieve degradation more than anyone else. Get used to it, Arya. You are feral now. Your own fancy Northern family would spit upon you before you could tell them who you were. Humiliation is good for the soul, it's cleansing. Wipe your eyes and let us get to your test. It is selfish to indulge in childish emotions while your tribe waits to turn you into so much more."

 

J sent them all in pairs. For the others, it was purely regular work when they came across others. For Arya it would be a test of her newly learned skills.

Originally, her partner was going to be Gendry.

With a mercy developed out of cold assessment, J decided she would have a different partner. That Arya might not perform her best around Gendry.

 

Arya was truly thrilled.

Until Shae sauntered on over and then Arya mentally groaned.

The girl wore sex like a dress and Arya hoped she wasn't supposed to learn that type of work.

 

J always said that each was allowed to create their own image that suits their talents.

"I am no pimp, I am not a slaver or a trader. If any male or female here choose to use their bodies as a lure, that is a risk they choose to take. But it is a choice, I do not condemn nor condone it."

 

Arya hated how J always seemed to know what she was thinking.

Shae chuckled as the girl jumped at J's presence. Shae spoke in a lilting, sharply amused voice.

"Don't worry, dear. I won't take you to any brothels or slave trades or any parties today. Too dangerous for a little thing like you. And you are only going to be attractive to the very worst people, girl. We will only go to the markets and have some dinner afterwards, then head back."

 

Nodding, Arya tried to evade J's eyes as she fought against another blush.

"Arya, you must learn not to allow your sensitive nature to get you in trouble. If I can see your emotions plastered on your face, so can everyone. How can a thief work if remorse or guilt tinges her features? A blushing girl will recieve the wrong attention as would a crying one. Control yourself."

That made her blink her eyes furiously while fanning her face.

Which made Shae laugh.

 

J chastised the woman for not assisting Arya.

"If she fails this test, you fail too, Shae. You are her guide, you are her first introduction into society as a feral. Remember this is quite new to her. Arya needs your wisdom, not your scorn. Advise and protect her or I will know why you didn't upon your return."

Something in the last sentence, in his deepened soft voice made both of them shiver. Shae nodded nervously and replied fast.

"I will protect and guide her. I am loyal to the bone, J. You know that. I do accept Arya as a tribe member, but she is amusing. That is all."

 

A busy but small city just before the desert was infiltrated by ferals by midday as the sun burned down without mercy.

 


	54. Releasing The Hunters

The mountain moved and people killed themselves to get out of the way.

Gregor was in the lower section of the city, the air was sharp with cheap liquor and piss. A few dumpsters overflowed, rats busy foraging to feed their ever growing families.

A run down looking boarding house was spilling an atrocious amount of music and hollering. Colored lights pulsed sickeningly out of time with the music and Gregor thought of the waste of electricity.

 

Gregor entered and inwardly flinched at the wall of sound, narrowing his eyes against the flashing lights. He shoved writhing dancers out of his way, heading towards the back of the club.

The two large men standing before a beaded curtain instantly moved aside and pulled open the curtain. Here the light was a steady glow and the music was slightly muted.

 

An intense poker game was happening and that is why the players only looked up briefly.

One of the men leaped up and opened a back door and held it for the giant.

 With no more than a nod, Gregor went down the stairs and followed the growing cries of a man.

 

A small room held a large carnival wheel. A naked bleeding drug dealer that Gregor faintly remembered was strapped to it.

Polliver was spinning the wheel and practicing his dagger tossing skills.

So far the man crying on the wheel had daggers stuck both hands, his left shoulder and his right inner thigh.

 

"Wow, I forgot how much I suck at darts...pathetic. Hey, Sir! Our buddy here was not only real short on his weekly payments but guess what I found him peddling? Give you a guess, it had a dragon on it."

Gregor loved a good torture session but he had more important things to deal with first. 

"Leave him down here. I'll have an example made of him for the others. Polliver, I have a job for you. Do you remember our dear friends Jaime Lannister and Loras Tyrell? They are raising a cannibal army in Lysa's crumbling rock tower. They are thinking of attacking us or at least the old grey matter thinks it could happen. Take some of your favorites and exterminate our fancy friends and their tribe."

 

An hour later the former drug dealer swung from a streetlight. A dragon carved into his back and guts falling out of his stomach, swaying in the mild breeze.

Gregor left his artwork where the other dealers could appreciate it and went to search out another of his men. His driver silently drove out of the main city and into the same section of the village Olenna had visited.

Except Gregor did not stop at the tavern, he kept driving until he reached an old tanning factory. It was redone and used for several illegal activities all at once. 

 

Gregor was always amused at how it was like a department store of different levels of sin.

If a person wished for drugs and a kinky lay for the night, that was the main bar area. To the left was high stakes gambling, to the right was the action of crazed, blooded pit bulls and rooster wearing spurs.

Upstairs was the actual whorehouse. Not just for the regular kinky of the bar folks. No, some clients went straight past the bar and up the stairs on their own.

 

These customers had different tastes that they need to explain enough to have their needs met. Children, animals, sexy clowns, a lactating whore that is excellent at changing adult diapers. There were worse things as well.

Gregor wasn't going upstairs, not tonight. He was going to the stairs that led further down.

If a customer wasn't here for the delights of drugs, gambling or paid sex, there were still two more options to explore. 

 

At the bottom of the stairs was a hallway that branched off towards the left or there was a door at the right.

If a customer would like to purchase a weapon they could continue towards the left.

However, some more discerning people, such as the former Craster, have an urge to buy a slave.

 

That would be the door on the right and Gregor knocked only once before entering.

Three very pretty slaves stood against a red wall. Cheap collars wrapped tightly around thin throats, eyes all pinned in terror to their bare feet. Two females in their early twenties and a delicate teenage boy, shivering against each other, hands linked tightly together in silent support.

A fourth slave, another young woman was on her knees before Raff. Two other slavers were laughing, their whips and batons swinging carelessly in their grip.

 

The young woman's eyes rolled in fear and tears fell down her face.

Raff was leaning over the girl and his hand gun was most of the way down her throat. Gagging, the woman released her bladder when another click was heard.

"For shame. Pissing yourself, at your age! Uh oh...only two more tries left. It is really sad, I feel so bad for you, dear girl. You had such a good opportunity ahead of you. All you had to do was behave and keep your pretty mouth shut and your eyes respectful. Was that too much to ask, sweet-pea? Are you better than these other three? Except, they are going to have showers, clean clothes, a nice dinner and then a new bed to sleep in. They will be serving new owners and you will be nothing more than another stain on this floor. A pity. You suck cock so well too."

Gregor rolled his eyes at the dramatics and grumbled at Raff.

 

"Enough slave roulette for today, Raff.  What did the girl do that you allow your temper to cancel out the profits? I don't like knowing my percentage gets smaller when your ocd perfection standards aren't met. She is traumatized, she gets the point. Sell her and be done with it, if she wants to dare push her owner, it's her own grave she's dug."

Raff pouted a bit at his game ruined but yanked his gun back. He dried her blood and saliva off of it with the rags he had torn off the slave. Tossing the sobbing girl at the two men, Raff walked over to Gregor.

"Sorry for that, Sir. I apologize, I let my temper get the best of me. Little bitch was giving attitude instead of being grateful that she wasn't going upstairs anymore to work. A private owner is what these creatures should pray for everyday if they knew what was good for them. But cattle is stupid and I sometimes forget that."

 

Gregor noticed the three slaves in the corner flinch upon hearing Raff's acidic opinions. Hearing Raff call them cattle seemed to scare them worse and they didn't look stupid at all. They all just stood in resigned horror while the slavers dragged the other female ahead of them.

"In a line, all of you. Into the showers, let's get you all gussied up."

The boy winced as the slaver that ordered them to move gave a quick lick of the whip to the slender thighs.

 

Gregor waited until they had all left the room before speaking to Raff.

"I need you to go on a rescue mission. Tyrion Lannister is being held by Viserys as a fucking jester. Which means Dany will use him as a hostage if she gets a chance too. Tywin wants his little son back, alive and well. I want that dwarf away from those twins at any cost. Take whatever and whomever you need."

Raff laughed and hugged himself in delight.

 

"A jester? The inbred blonde crazy fuck actually put the dwarf in a jester suit, making him hop around and bells jingling? Oh gawds, I wonder if Tyrion juggles? Just to see that little pompous fuck acting like that makes the whole trip worth it."

Gregor grabbed Raff's long blonde hair and pulled the man closer.

"Have as much fun as you'd like, Raff. But I want that dwarf back here soon, dead or alive. Hear me?"

 

"I hear you, Sir. Bring the dwarf back fast. Dead or alive." 


	55. Launching A Star

"If you wish for your people to see you as their king, as someone they should follow, you must be seen acting as like a king. You cannot stay hidden and just yell orders through others. Visit your establishments, visit the commoners as well as your officers. Have a drink at a bar, eat a meal at one of the restaurants, fuck a whore at the local brothel. Oh dear, now Hot Pie and Jeyne are glaring at me."

Viserys chuckled at the disgruntled ferals.

 

Tyrion grinned and settled further into his pillow upon the floor near his owner's feet. Hot Pie gave an insulted sniff and Jeyne stuck out her chin.

The siblings were also laying upon thick pillows around Visery's feet and one shining shoe gently nudged Hot Pie.  

"Don't worry, boy. No one anywhere could cook as well as you do. You have ruined my taste for other cooking but I shall choke something down at a greasy table if I must. And Jeyne, my poor jealous little pet, no whore could ever please me like you do."

Jeyne gave a tiny frown but she lowered her eyes submissively, almost causing Tyrion to laugh out loud.

 

It was so well acted and yet their new owner always fell for her wiles.

Sometimes Tyrion almost felt bad that they could so easily manipulate this spoiled, insane but lonely man. Jeyne rubbed her head along Viserys's leg, letting her hair pool then trail across him.

"Of course I am jealous, Master. But I understand that you must visit other females. Show them what a wonderful man you are in every way. I know someday you will have a rich, beautiful wife as your queen and you'll have to give her children. I only can hope that you will not throw me away out of boredom by then."

 

With a smile, Viserys kissed the top of Jeyne's head, his own head dancing with the dreams supplied by his slaves.

"I will never grow bored of you, dear. My future wife will just have to understand your place here and accept that. Don't you worry your pretty head over such silly things, Jeyne."

Now it was both Hot Pie and Tyrion that had to smother laughter.

 

Jorah's eyes narrowed from the corner where he was slouched, drinking. Something he has been doing more than ever.

In spite of the distraction of his broken heart and the soothing layer of strong spiced wine, Jorah is positive the slaves are up to something. They had Viserys twisted over their little fingers and Jorah saw it, as did Lancel and others.

It made Lancel seethe, it made the few other abused slaves that didn't dare to run off seethe as well.

 

They all watched the three slaves become increasingly pampered and powerful in their own way.

Tyrion and Hot Pie each had their own small bedrooms.

Jeyne was given one as well but rarely used it except to store her increasing small treasures. She knew that Viserys preferred her presence when he slept. 

The rooms were within the slave quarters but the other five slaves shared an old crumbling two bedroom maintenance manager's apartment.

 

Though Lancel lived one floor above the slave quarters, his room was no bigger than Tyrion's and that was rankling him.

Also the three took their supper with Viserys. They only shared breakfast and lunch in the kitchen with the other slaves and free workers like Lancel.

Jorah objected to his leader over allowing his new pets unique freedoms but was ignored.

"The siblings are ferals and need fresh air, they don't go far and they are always watched. Right, Jorah? You are the most suspicious of them so it's reasonable to assume you won't lose them into the night. Let them run about a little as long as they don't go past the gates. Tyrion can waddle after them. I don't he will be able to keep up."

 

So Jorah would watch as the girl leaped all over the crumbling parapets of the hotel, stretching her body over the open air in a way that made the slaver positive she would fall.

And he would strain to hear what Hot Pie and Tyrion whispered of while they walked in the gardens.

The three had a habit of dividing up once outdoors so it was harder for Jorah to keep his eye on all three at once.

He hated it, knew they were fucking with him and yet never found a thing to accuse them of.

 

"Why are you building Viserys up like that? Do you have any idea what kind of king he'd really be? You morons! What do you think will happen when Dany hears of it? You think she will like your plans? I think she might kill two ferals and take a dwarf as a hostage. Only Tyrion makes out in that scenario. And once I tell Dany what kind of slippery man you are, dwarf, she'll keep you tied up and gagged."

They did not look at Jorah with any fear and they barely could keep up the act of respect.

And they never replied, just continued with silent plans that Jorah was determined to understand and destroy. 

 

With coaching from his three loyal slaves, Viserys began to go into the public eye. He went to different establishments and wandered through the city to allow all to see his finery.

His jester skipping along brought out the crowd and children pointed, laughing at brightly dressed little man, wearing bells and a wide strained smile.

"A king needs a fool and a good king knows his people need humor and joy in their lives so here I am!"

Tyrion juggled and told some funny jokes, appropriate enough for the small ears around him.

 

Jeyne was dressed in a gown made entirely of tiny gold chains that tinkled and moved about her like metallic snakes. She gave melting smiles to all who met her eyes.

Twirling around her Master and sometimes caressing him to show her devotion.

Jeyne gave the gossip to the females of her satisfaction with her owner.

 

Hot Pie was dressed well and he went just before his king to make sure he was always comfortable.

All food and drink was tried by the boy and served with great care to Hot Pie's satisfaction for his king. For their king.

 

And with every word, every gesture, the three made sure the common people suddenly remember who Viserys was.

The whispers that the three have put into Visery's head came out of the elegant royal mouth.

All found themselves listening to him.

 

To how Dany wished to force them all to live under her strict matriarchal beliefs, how they will lose all their livelihoods to her if she overtakes them.

They heard Viserys remind them that they all lived on illegal trades and he himself had no intention of changing that. He wants them to all rally with him, to call him king.

Or will they allow Dany to just be their Queen and destroy all they have worked so hard for?

 

Cheers went up, roars of support for the Targaryen King and he made promises they liked. Increased trade, expanded lands and the eventual destruction of the other Southern leaders.

They will strip Dany of her power, absorb her army. Those who will not give their loyalty to Viserys can be sold as slaves or thrown into the fighting pits for entertainment.

Then they will march to finish the job of taking down the Mountain.

Viserys told his people they could punish the elderly council and the fancy folks of the politer society any way they wished.

 

A man muttered something to Jorah while Viserys was preparing to spend another night among his followers.

"Your sister was seen heading this way. Two cars, Dany has at least five or six armed guards with her. I have a feeling your last letter made her decide to visit. Bragging about owning the dwarf was too rash, I warned you of that."

Viserys glared at Jorah then shoved him into a wall, his words spitting into the man's face.

"Your job isn't to warn me or advise me of shit, Jorah. And don't even think of trying to leave my service or betray me to Dany or I swear you'll die painfully and slowly. I'll mail your rotting corpse to my sweet sister on her next birthday, Jorah."

 

Viserys paced back and forth in his rooms while the pets tried to judge his mood.

He looked too dangerous to approach yet they knew he must be calm in front of Dany. With deep breaths, they tip toed forward and hoped not to die.

Jeyne gently touched her Master's arm as he stormed past and her voice was soft, loving and empathetic.

"My Master, my king, how dare your sister not ask for an invite to your court! You are so righteous in your anger over her rudeness. However, Dany must never see that she has power to upset you, Master!"

 

The man swung about and grabbed Jeyne by her throat, pinning her to the wall.

"That bitch has no real power! Only what she stole from me! What she learned from me! And I will make her pay!"

Hot Pie watched nervously as his sister turned blue and Tryion came forward with his hands outstretched. 

"Of course you will, Master! Let us help you, we want nothing more than to dethrone your sister for you! All we wish to do is serve you, Master. Your best ideas are what you bounce off us but if Jeyne is dead she cannot worship or assist you, Master."

Nodding, Viserys dropped Jeyne and turned to pin Tyrion with his burning eyes.

 

"We have little time to prepare. Tyrion, my sister wants to steal you, I know she does. Wants to ransom you back to your daddy and we cannot allow that to happen. Dany will want to kill my feral pets because she cannot stand to allow me to have anyone with true loyalty. I promise all of you, I will kill you each personally before allowing her to steal you from me."

None of them were reassured by this but nodded as if they were.

Jeyne went to put some ice on her throat while the others began to tentatively calm Viserys.

Hurrying, Jeyne grabbed Lancel and the other slaves. Presentation is everything and as much as the others resented this feral girl, they didn't dare voice an opinion. Not while their Master was raging over Dany's visit.

 

Jorah went out with the officers to obey orders that came from the King's mouth after Tyrion put the suggestions into his ear. But as irritating as that was, Jorah didn't care too much.

He was actually shaking in anticipation of seeing his Dany again.

And he knew regardless of the bloody price that Viserys would exact from him, Jorah would be loyal to Dany.


	56. Arrogant Lost Girl

Hot sweaty flesh, soaked clothing swishing by, hanging bags or pouches on shoulders and belts.

Arya was at the top of her game, she was stealing anything she could.

At one point she stole two hats and switched them upon the heads.

That is when Shae caught up to her in the crowd and pushed her out of it.

 

"You are getting cocky and playing around. This is a test, this is crime, this is work, not the right place for humor."

Snorting, Arya gestured to Gendry across the long mall area.

"He and Walda have been making jokes and making even J smile! I switch a few hats around and that is a no no?"

Rolling her eyes, Shae grabbed Arya's arm and headed towards the food market.

 

She spoke as they strolled past stands of fruit, vegetables and raw meat hanging from hooks.

"Yes, they were fooling around but the con was a pretty safe one. And they are experienced, girl. You are new to all of this, you cannot afford to lose focus to arrogance or humor. Not yet. You are good but not as good as you think you are."

Arya jumped when an old woman suddenly launched at her with a stiff straw broom.

"Ach! Fucking ferals! Get away! Get away from the stands! No stealing! I'll call for the excuse we call the law around here! I will! Filthy things, thieves, get away! Now!"

 

Arya was leaning against a brick wall, panting. Four other stand workers had joined in and chased the girls away.

Shae grinned at the girl and spoke once she caught her breath.

"Sharp eyes do us in sometimes. How they see us. In a crowd, in shadows or sneaking about, they don't see us, we are beneath their interests. However, some have very sharp eyes and will always pick us out. We never stay in one area long enough to be seen again. You will not go back to the crowds, the stands or the market. We shall go get some lunch then head back to camp. Perhaps we can swindle a bit more than lunch, eh?"

 

Pouting the whole way, Arya followed after Shae away from the crowds and her test.

It can't already be over just because a few folks saw they were ferals?

Glaring at Shae's back, Arya couldn't help but wonder if the woman sabotaged her on purpose.

Shae sat across from the girl, eating a bowl of barely edible soup.

 

"Eat it. I know it's not very good but it's free. We used to travel with these freaky twins....I miss the boy. Not him, but I miss his cooking."

Arya rolled her eyes up at that and stopped stirring the greasy broth.

"Was his name Hot Pie? Did he have a girl called Jeyne with him?"

Shae nodded and widened her eyes.

 

"Yes! Have you seen them?"

"They came to my home with this rich little man, Tyrion. When everything went to shit, we ended up together for awhile. I tried to save them but the slaver got away with them. They were bought by a Targaryen.  Wait, Jeyne said that their tribe just left them. Deserted them. Did J do that? Just leave them alone and lost?"

Shae shrugged and gave a tinkling laugh at Arya's indignation on behalf of the twins.

"No feral is truly lost. We always find a tribe, a place to go, something until we find guidance. J was restless, he sensed the North and Riverlands going rotten. He told us to go and we went. The twins had been on a scouting mission and were late. They were always late and J warned them so many times about it. So we left and they never caught up. Now I can tell J good news. They are alive, not cannibals and in the South."

 

Arya wasn't sure how it was good news.

They were slaves to some sadistic man and Shae didn't seem concerned at all.

Unable to try and eat or smell the soup any longer or look at Shae, Arya stood up and started to walk around.

Ignoring Shae's hissed threats and warnings, she began to quickly head back towards the mall.

 

Her frustrations swept her into the crowds and Arya decided just a little more time would calm her down.

Besides there was still time left on her test, she was sure of it.

Peeking through the press of people, Arya would catch glimpses of a few other tribe members.

Pockets, hidden spaces, everywhere upon her was full soon and then she saw a lovely necklace.

 

Swaying upon a heavily jeweled whore that was dancing drunkenly through the market stall, the gold twinkled.

Arya had a vision of wearing it over to Shae later on and giving it to her as a fuck you present.

Grinning, unable to stop herself, Arya easily stole it and slipped it over her own head.

Spinning, ducking away, Arya was almost at the edge of the market when an elderly voice made her cringe.

 

"Feral! Thief! Stole the whore's necklace! I chased her off the stalls earlier! Filthy fucking feral, get her! Get the damned fake police! Tell them to do their damned job!"

All eyes landed upon her and Arya bolted.

Chased by a few of the other market workers, a few bored patrons and finally, by a form of authority.

Arya dodged, rolled barrels, evaded and climbed, blindly heading past the market into the city.

 

Once she was truly out of sight, the crowd seemed to loose interest in her.

Slithering through a narrow alleyway between two crumbling buildings, Arya tried to figure out where the hell she was and how to get back.

Buildings, tall ones that seemed to angrily press together to stay standing.

A few stores or unmarked doors and windows with garish lights.

 

Arya winced at a buzzing sound, a crackling one from overused generators sizzled the air.

She tiptoed through the shadows, trying to find a way to get out of the city, around the market and back to the tribe.

Would J leave her like he did to the twins? She knew that answer already.

There was no rescue for her, no one will be coming. What a fucking grueling test, after all.

 

Drunken laughter and a screech on occasion, smashing of glass a few times, crowds, couples.

Avoiding attention, Arya began to move about the city, trying to reach the gate, the walls.

Her eyes caught upon the wall and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Planning how to scale it, Arya never felt the presence until it was too late.

 

"Hello, little feral girl. Out for a late night wander at your tender age?"

The words were said warmly, eagerly and far too hungrily.

Arya swung about, dagger in hand, ready to slice but encountered a taser that pressed into her cheek.

Twitching upon the ground, Arya stared up as the man leered at her while he used the taser upon her twice more.

 

Arya could do nothing but moan and flop as the man handcuffed her wrists behind her back.

He yanked her to her feet by her hair then chuckled as his thick hand decided to wander across her shirt and vest.

Her mouth opened before Arya's brain fully kicked back in.

"Get your hands off my chest, asshole!"

 

The backhand knocked her into the wall and Arya saw stars for a moment.

A hand grabbed her throat and the man's broad red face was in hers, almost nose to nose.

When the man growled out his self important words, the stench of wine, garlic and fish assaulted her defenseless nose.

"I am Commander Meryn Trant. The Targaryen King himself has given me control of his city. To protect it's private and peaceful citizens from enemies and from filthy little thieves like yourself. You are a little one though, aren't you? And you seem so new...so different from the other ones. Are you sure you are a real feral, girl? Maybe you just ran away from home and playing pretend? Hmm? Don't worry, I'll never tell if its true. Where I am taking you, it won't matter who or what you are. And I plan to see to your care personally, little girl."

 

Arya spoke right through her fear, lifting her chin up.

"Your city is a crumbling wreck full of criminals. The most honest folks here are probably the ones back in the public markets. Fuck your king and fuck you too. You have no crime on me! I have done nothing wrong and I am not a runaway! You have no right to drag me anywhere at all!"

Another slap followed by a blow to her stomach.

Arya recovered while the loathsome hands ran across her body like questing cockroaches.

 

Bringing her knee up swiftly, Arya tried to send the man's testicles through skull.

He blocked it at the last second then smiled at her fiercely.

"My turn."

When his rock hard knee exploded into her vulva, Arya screamed soundlessly to the heavens.

 

Laughing, Meryn dragged Arya down the streets towards the dark hellhole he has created for a prison.

He won't be needing to visit the brothel or the slavers that rent tonight.

Won't need to have to wave charges or the dragon's drugs over a desperate parent's head to get what he needs.

Of course, Meryn didn't have to leave the prison to find a victim to torture or rape.

 

The prisoners were his toys, to do as he pleased with.

His men, they all own everyone in those cages, in those thick walls.

Rarely did they get to put anyone younger than eighteen in there.

Teenagers and children can only be jailed until parents, an orphanage or slavers were contacted.

 

Meryn would only rape them if they were girl that had no parents to collect them.

If the youngster was a male, he let the other jailers have him while they can.

The slavers or orphanages he called did not care what condition the youth were in as long as they were alive and not maimed.

However, this was a feral girl.

 

No one would really care what happened to a girl that was a feral, would they?

Meryn doubted that anyone would notice or care if he happened to keep a little feral girl in the prison.

A pet he could play with and keep until it breaks or dies.

She was a spitfire too and that just made it more exciting.

 

He loves to see the hope die in their eyes, to watch them struggle, fight and lose over and over.

 

 


	57. Dragons Flexing Their Wings

Dany stood just inside the walls, within the market she had left months ago.

It has certainly changed and so have the people, not the actual people but their faces.

In the past they were respectful but indifferent, now they looked hostile.

Yet she received formal and icily polite welcome, to the Targaryen Territories as if that weren't her own last name.

 

Banners, flags and posters bearing their family dragon was everywhere.

Jorah appeared, with a new uniform, wearing the dragon upon his back.

"Dany, welcome home. Your brother is waiting to see you."

He desperately wanted to hug her, but knew this would be a very improper time. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly touched her arm, to move her forward.

 

"You are the first one to welcome me home, everyone else seems to welcome me to a new place. And it does seem very different. I see that no one liked the new banners I sent?"

Dany's voice sounded light and amused but Jorah saw the confusion and irritation in her eyes.

"Things have changed, Dany, yes. Our king prefers his own banners to be used and his subjects are very pleased with it. And with him. Commerce has picked up as your brother became motivated to actually rule rather than just butcher or ignore everyone. Viserys became greatly motivated upon listening to the advice of his new slaves. Tyrion, Jeyne and Hot Pie have the collars but they rule your brother's decisions and emotions."

Dany arched a brow as she let Jorah escort her towards the hotel where her brother still lived.

 

"King Targaryen rules a group of criminals and he is ruled by his own slaves? It is good that I showed when I did then. I will remove the dwarf and we will get rid of the meddling ferals. Restore order again."

Jorah shook his head a bit and lowered his voice as they passed a few volunteer guards, leading into the hotel.

"It might not be as easy as you think. Your brother was truly hurt and angry at you and the ferals fed into it. He won't let you near his new pets, at least not close enough to harm them or steal them. And he deeply fears you doing that. He has threatened my life if I switch my loyalty to you, which you already have. I would never have left if I had known what he would do to you! And I never would have brought him these three if I had known what they were capable of."

Dany patted Jorah's shoulder but considered what he said as her own counsel and guards formed around her.

 

"It is alright, don't beat yourself over it. You had no idea. I still am not sure if Viserys knew they would sacrifice me or not. I can't believe anything that he says. Then he does things like this that make me wonder why I even keep him alive or don't just banish him and have done with it. Cut him out of my life completely."

"That might happen anyway, Dany. Viserys doesn't consider his tribe part of yours. You are separate as far as he is considered. If you want that dwarf, you are going to have to negotiate. He wants you to meet him in his throne room."

Dany stopped for a second to stare at Jorah.

"He wants me to what?"

 

Jorah shrugged and smirked.

"A Queen has come to see a King. So they set up a throne room for him."

Dany took a deep breath and continued forward with Jorah.

"Well, I suppose if the Queen can use fire magic, a King can have his fancy throne room."

 

The hallway seemed to swallow her whole and Dany was glad to have Jorah at her side. Both sides of the bright crimson hallway lined with people. Some seemed to be waiting to see their king. Others seemed to be there for no further reason than to stare at her with flat uncaring hostility as she walked by. None spoke, the murmur that was there when she first approached had quickly ended.

A fat one eyed man leered at Dany as she went by and she recalled that he had been banished. He had murdered an entire family over loans unpaid. Dany's back got so straight her spine nearly snapped. These are the kind of followers that Viserys wanted? No matter, it was the influence of the meddling Lannister and those two dirty ferals. Viserys was hurt by her? Fine. Dany can fix that and she waited patiently for the two thick wooden doors to open.

Two glaring men seemed to begrudgingly open the doors. Dany swept past them without a single glance as soon as the doors were open just enough. And she nearly screamed in frustration when she only ran into golden cloth and thin delicate gold chains swinging everywhere. Rather than allow herself to end up as a ridiculous hanging prop among the glittering mess, Dany waited for Jorah. He took her arm and forced a grin back.

Jorah guided her past a corridor made of swaying gold and then an opening appeared.

Taking a deep breath, Dany strode into the throne room.


	58. The True Test

Arya had no choice but to keep walking forward at a stumbling fast pace as the man ran his thick sweaty hands over her body. It was like being molested by warm hams and she wanted to vomit on him. There was no way he was going to rape her, she would kill him or herself before that happened.

Her eyes tried to scan, to lock on anyone or anything to help her. In her mind, thousands of ideas and emotions crashed like a stormy ocean.

Shae's voice reminds her that if she allows this man to get very personal, she can reach his keys or weapons. Gendry's voice cautions her to try to act like a cringing victim and find the first opportunity for escape, even if its going to cost her suffering. Even her family has ghost voices that live in her head. The only voice that could rise above the others, even though it was a voice that never got raised, was J's.

_Think it through and do not panic. Clear your head, breathe, go with it. Look around for what chances are available to you. Decide what you are willing to risk in order to save yourself._

 

Meryn breathed hot stench upon her neck as he pressed closer. He pointed out a terrible gloomy looking fortress in the distance. "That is your new home, girl." Writhing away slightly, Arya bit her lip so she wouldn't snap insults at the loathsome man. "How...how far to reach it?"

Laughing, the man pushed the girl to keep her moving. "Not long at all. Another few minutes and then I'm going to give you one hell of a welcome to your new life."

Arya decided not to respond at all but keep walking, looking around her.

The only roaming creatures at this hour in this city were not interested in an illegal kidnapping of a girl. They were out with their own illegal business to keep them busy. There was a couple that were quite loud, right under a torchlight, a man and a woman fought drunkenly with each other.

Meryn tried to ignore them, wanting to enjoy his time with this girl.

 

Arya hid her grin when she saw Gendry and Shae pretending to be drunk citizens, just two slummers. She relaxed a bit then, knowing her feral friends were not abandoning her like they did with the twins. They were loud and striking each other and when Meryn tried to fly by with his catch, they accidentally got in his way.

Gendry had shoved Shae hard enough to knock her straight into the man. She had screeched in drunken rage as Meryn tried to shove her back, cursing loudly. The woman swayed, nearly smashed through Arya. As she tried to keep on her feet, Arya felt a metal pick shoved into her cuffs and she made a fast silent prayer in her head.

Hearing the click, Arya shimmied out of the cuffs as Meryn started to pull out his billy club to land upon the drunk man yelling into his face. Shae whispered one word, "Run." Obeying instantly for the first time during this test, Arya flew and left the enraged officer to fight with Gendry and Shae. It was hard not to cry as she ran, ignoring the frustrated officer yelling after her. 

 

What will J say about this? Arya had to have failed, to have gotten made out in the market, to have to be rescued from an actual city officer? All because Arya didn't listen to Shae's advice. And the reason Arya was paired with Shae was because she already messed up with Gendry.

Both who were nice enough to save her and put themselves in danger with that officer. If either of them were injured or arrested, it would be Arya's fault. This was truly a low point for her. She failed her family, she failed the dwarf and twins. Now she has failed J's tests, she has failed yet another group. Maybe Arya doesn't belong with the ferals either. 

Wiping her eyes and noticing that she hasn't heard Meryn in some time, Arya stopped running and leaned against a wall. Her mind had drifted into a terribly sad image of J and the others all gently condemning her. Handing her the few items they would let her leave with.

Now Arya cleared her head and took stock of what was around her. Groaning softly, slumping down, she lowered her head and shook it. Another big fail and true proof that Arya was nowhere near as good as her group was. Because she was truly fucking lost.

 

A dragon flag waved in the warm breeze arrogantly and the narrow alley she was in, led towards the main center.

Moaning and rubbing her head with both hands, Arya crouched low, her forehead scrunched in deep thought. She didn't run away back towards the market or to another part of the labyrinth of the slums. No, in her unfocused running, she went straight to the heart of the damned city!

_This was where Tyrion, Hot Pie and Jeyne were taken! To the dragon prince who lives not far from where Arya was standing._

Straightening up so fast, snapping her head back in revelation, Arya almost hit the wall and knocked herself silly.

_J has taught them to live by Guidance...maybe this was hers? Maybe all along it was fate that she would come back to save her friends. Perhaps it really was some deity that wished for Arya to end up with the ferals to learn from them before trying to save the others? What if that was her part in some great plan?_

_What if that was the true test here? To find the goal itself._

Arya smiled widely and finally allowed the tears to fall. A few shuddering breaths before sniffing and wiping away the last bit of moisture from her eyelids. She has a purpose now.  


	59. Freak Accidents

Shireen just couldn't take another second of it all.

It wasn't the actual work, the problems and paperwork wasn't the issue in the least. Davos was the problem, the other so called advisors were the problem. The constant over-explaining and excessive pressuring advice was stomping her into the ground. Asking them politely to allow her to study the problems herself was simply ignored. The fancily dressed self important folks that felt a sixteen year old couldn't possibly understand their problems. Some actually looked directly at Davos and acted as if Shireen wasn't even there. 

Several times Shireen had to stand up and speak in a very firm tone before they took her seriously. Even when she made good sound decisions, they were second guessed and sometimes they argued. If Davos thought her decision was sound he said so but in a patronizing way that Shireen saw he wasn't aware of. Shireen had tried to dress like Dany would have. She even had a bare head, her hair designed to hang over the burn part of her face. It wasn't so much her looks but her age that was the problem. Shireen prayed for Dany to hurry home and she escaped the duties of leader as soon as it was possible.

 

During her supper, Shireen was still in her new garb. She did pull her hair back into a small clip in order to eat her food. It didn't escape her eyes that the servants would look uneasily at her scars. That they were in an awkward rush to serve her and leave the room while whispering a blessing upon her. A bitter smirk as she ate food that had no taste, no smell, nothing. Shireen only could see and feel inwardly. It didn't matter, no one will ever see her, only what they want to see. The very people she led either discounted her as a young simple minded girl or a blessed by gods curiosity.

It was simply the last thing that Shireen could take and she fled to her room. Quickly she changed into her jeans and sweatshirt, happily pulling the hood over her head. She quietly slipped into the downstairs library and used a small brass lever that revealed a bookcase that opened. Shireen wasn't supposed to use the escape tunnels unless it was a real emergency. But she wasn't in the mood for anymore adults telling her what to do. Lying to herself, Shireen went through the tunnels, telling herself if she was within the city, she could get a better understanding of her own people. The night air was warm and wonderful, she stared up at the moon and smiled.

 

At first Shireen just wandered the quieter roads, enjoying the freedom, the night sounds. She did head closer towards the center of the city but the press of so many was daunting. Open air markets were lit by sparkling small lights or colored lanterns, many different food stands were offering supper. Rows of tables full of chattering hungry customers. She saw families, giggling children taunting each other, saw couples staring into each others eyes, observed hungry workers joking with each other loudly as they shoved huge spoonfuls of stew into their mouths.

Smiling wistfully at such fairy tale things, Shireen moved on to follow the sounds of a party in full swing. She hid in the bushes and watched the people dancing, drinking. The band playing was so exuberant, all of them sweating in their passionate efforts. Glad that she had stolen a long black cloak on her way out the door, Shireen shrank back as some teenagers came too close. Covering herself completely, Shireen heard three different drug deals happen and she frowned at that. It spoiled the party mood and she moved on as soon as the last dealer moved on.

 

Shireen headed further down the road, hunched in her cloak, past houses, some dark, some not. Another bunch of lights and open bars. Women dressed provocative, yelling to men that came by. She was shocked to hear the offers made and quickly went past them, flinching at the drunken laughter and rough yelling inside the bars. It was time to turn back, this was not fun anymore and Shireen was no longer in the mood for adventure. With some regret, Shireen began to head the way she had come. Passing the drunks, the whores and paying none of them any mind, huddled in the cloak.

Until two drunks seemed to be following her while slurring to each other.

"Word was...they was looking for a freak. Thas....a freak. Saw the fash...face jushh enuff....fffffrrreeeeeak. Thas money!"

All it took was hearing the word freak and Shireen knew it was time to run.

 

She figured that if these creatures were drunk enough to have trouble speaking, they were too drunk to run. This proved to be entirely untrue and Shireen suffered the indignity of finding herself put inside a bag. Shireen screeched and pummeled at the bag but it did no good. Hoisted, banged about a bit as the two idiots took turns carrying or dragging her. A car ride that gave her no chance to get out of the bag since one of the drunks had both his feet planted firmly on her back.

Shireen did worry a bit about suffocating but the car stopped and she was hauled more. Then she heard them pleading half incoherently at someone who responded sharply. She was dumped on the floor but all Shireen cared about was getting a deep breath. When she looked up it was to see one of the most handsome men she has ever seen in her life. Her jaw dropped and not a bit of shame came to her over it, he was like an angel. Except angels don't have eyes that lovely but that terrifying in their sadistic eagerness.

 

Angels might have his high cheekbones, perfect nose,carved statue perfect lips but Shireen doubts that they smirk in such a way that seems like a snarl. Also, angels probably don't use guns or threaten drunks. "You fucking morons! What is the meaning of this?" The drunks babbled that they heard the word was out that the man was searching for a freak. They saw this girl's face and brought him a freak. Shireen didn't even flinch or take offense, she was used to the insult of freak and her mind was still on the angel that wasn't an angel.

Angels don't shoot drunks in the head with no more than a look of disgust at them. Shireen jumped slightly at the sounds but used the time to quickly try and hide her scars under her hair. Glaring at one of his men, the angel snarled out, "I said dwarf. A fucking dwarf. And they didn't even get freak right. They grabbed some girl with a fucking bit of burn instead! Get them disposed of. Go and make it fucking clear what we are searching for. Now. Find out which man gave out the word freak and skin one arm for me. Your choice which arm."

 

Shireen had no fear. There was no fear even as the man stood over her and the gun was pointing at her. "Let me see your face, I want to see in your eyes when we chat. I hate it when pretty things lie to me and pretty things do tend to lie. So look at me, right up into my eyes, sweetheart. Good girl. Now, do you have a name?" It was a difficult question and she was having trouble remembering what her name was. The man gave a tiny sound of impatience then it smoothed over and he smiled. "Let's try another thing. What is your age?" "Sixteen." "Good. What is your name?" "Shireen Baratheon."

The handsome man stared into her eyes and Shireen watched him scan her for the truth as he asked her to repeat her name. He gave her such a lovely smile and she mindlessly returned it. She was still stunned at his beauty but now, now it was sunk, it was done, he really must be a form of an angel. Because yes, he killed those men, yes, he was holding a gun at her now but...but....he never once looked at her scars. Only her eyes and had said she had "only a bit of a burn." Putting the gun away the gun, the angel kindly offered a hand to help her stand up. 

 

He introduced himself as Raff but Shireen never heard of an angel with that name either. Shireen wondered briefly if this wasn't an angel but a devil in one of his tempting forms. Shireen suddenly, achingly, understood why men willingly went into that red witch's fires. 


	60. Dragon With Fire

At first it seemed like Dany was walking into the blazing sun. So many useless lights glowing, covered with gold cloth and metal gold chains everywhere. What a waste of both space and electricity but she stifled her thoughts deep down. It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the brightness before she made out the gold fancy rugs and white furs scattered everywhere.

Then the small makeshift stage with a delicate metal framed golden throne with a fur pillow on the seat. Viserys was richly dressed and wore a crown in a roughish way. He sat comfortably in his fancy seat, one leg dangling over the gilded arm.

Sitting on the right side of the stage, his small legs hanging off it, was Tyrion Lannister. He was fancily dressed but not as a Lannister would be. A jester's costume with encrusted jewels and curved pointy toes made him look silly. The collar upon his neck didn't match the outfit or the dwarf's eyes.

On the left of the stage, standing on the floor itself, stood a fancily dressed and heavyset boy with a slave collar. That must be the feral cook. Dany's eyes went to the last slave in the room.

The girl was very pretty and clearly a feral. It was in her stance, her eyes and though the gold chain dress fit her perfectly, the collar didn't. Dany was reminded of the poor wild creatures caught in cages at the zoo exhibits back during the fairs.

Her eyes were dark and full of something that made Dany feel on edge. The girl knelt at Visery's feet to his right and her hand was resting gently upon his knee.

With a smirk upon his face and some hostility in his eyes, Viserys waved his hand and spoke.

"Ah, a visit with the Queen of Fire! What a lovely gesture to visit your brother, the Dragon King! I hope your travel wasn't too difficult, dearest sister?"

 

Dany smiled and stood before the stage, clasping her hands before her.

"I am sorry I did not have time to visit you sooner, brother. I was busy trying to not be used as a human sacrifice. I was busy trying to create a new group and keep a young girl safe. And I am still busy trying to help communities become lawful and healthy. Right now I am incredibly busy trying to find a way for winning a war or finding a way to peace with the rest of the South. But I dropped all of that just to come see you, Viserys."

Tilting his head, Viserys stared at Dany. "Really? So interesting. Tell me, why would you drop all of that just to visit me?"

Jorah had been standing next to Dany until Viserys started to glare at him then he cleared his throat and went to stand near the door. All Dany's men and few counselors were still standing in the trap of gold cloth and chains. Standing alone, Dany took a deep breath, lifted her chin and tried to challenge a dragon.

"Viserys, any able bodied person who we can use to fight, to heal, to help us is needed. Everyone here feels that we are two divided kingdoms now fighting for different things. We need to all be united and working together." Dany gestured towards Tyrion. "I mean, you know that is Tywin Lannister's son and you mock them all by doing this. Let me use Tyrion as a way for us to negotiate with Tywin. Let's join together, you can be King and I will be Queen. We each can live on our own and work together still, can't we?"

 

With a rich chuckle, Viserys straightened up in his chair and he smiled at his sister.

"But my dear, we are two divided kingdoms. I don't want to help you in your war or your healing or your laws. You can have your war or your peace with Tywin all you'd like. We are not part of your war. My people are going their own way, we have our own laws and rules. I have a new path for them and for me. As for my jester slave, he could be anyone at all, doesn't matter. He is mine and you will not have him. Tywin doesn't give a hell about his son and we all know it."

Dany gritted her teeth. "The man doesn't have to love his son for him to care and take offense. A Lannister is being used as a joke and I can assure you that is not something that Tywin will take lightly when he hears of it."

"Then Tywin himself may come and discuss his son's treatment with me. But you will not have him. Tyrion is more than just a jester, he is very talented and is also excellent counsel. This here is my cook Hot Pie, you may not have him either. You will want to steal him away once you've tasted his food, but you may not take him."

Viserys ran his hand through Jeyne's hair. "This is the other feral slave, her name is Jeyne and you can't have her either. She is very special and very attached to me."

Dany raised one eyebrow, clearly surveying how each slave looks then commented dryly.

"For slaves, they are all very well dressed and don't look nearly as abused as most of your slaves usually look. I wonder if we shall be eating soon and if we have to eat with all of them in attendance?"

Viserys glared at his sister and continued to pet Jeyne's hair.

"How rude of you. Since I have no sister nor anyone else who gives a care for me, perhaps I found my comfort in slaves. You find comfort in the company and counsel of a burnt faced sixteen year old, I don't mock you for it. But if you must, we can eat in private. The men you have brought may find food in our small guest dining room down the hall. Hot Pie will cook a feast for us all. We shall have ours here, the men in the other room and my slaves can eat in the kitchen. You know, sister, for such a freedom fighter, you really do love seeing everyone in their proper place, don't you?"

With a nod from his king, the boy smiled at Dany then left the room, presumably for the kitchens. Jeyne stood up gracefully and hopped off the stage to begin to rearrange things so that a supper could be set up. Tyrion followed after the girl to help her set up a table that had been leaning flat against a wall. 

 

Viserys came down the stage himself and stood before his sister, gently he reached up and touched her cheek.

"I really missed you. I was so hurt when you thought I set you up to die. I was even more hurt that you abandoned me. I finally pulled myself back up, finally found my purpose, found a way to be happy again. And that is when you suddenly have time to race to me, not with hurt, regret, shame or love in your eyes, no, just anger. Do you think I cannot see it? That angry judging look you always thought you could hide but you can't."

Dany lost her smile and was now just fighting not to snarl.

"I missed you too, brother. I was very hurt because it was very clear you wanted me to leave, then I wasn't sure if you knew I was to be a sacrifice. I have nothing to apologize for. I did as you told me and then when my life was at stake, I acted. When I had the chance to help a girl, help others create a real home with goals, I did. I did not hurt you, I did nothing but keep surviving and doing what was right. We have to move on from our pasts and the wounds have to heal, Viserys. We need to think of all those we are responsible for and how to not fail them. How to lead them and grow stronger, safer. We can help each other do that."

Viserys smirked and commented, "Well, perhaps during supper you can tell me how you think we could ever work together. I'll warn you that the food might make you forget your ideas. Which is fine by me, since I don't believe we will ever see eye to eye again, sister. But you are welcome to try."   

   


	61. Reports Given With A Shiteating Grin

Gregor came into the sweltering meeting room, deliberately taking his time.

The three elderly prunes and the two sneaky shits were all glaring at him and Olenna snapped out, "You are over twenty minutes late, young man! I hope there is an excellent reason to make us wait for you! Do you think I gain my excitement by watching Varys and Petyr slowly melt? Do you think I like watching us age slowly while you saunter about town? Do I look like my main joys in life is watching paint dry, dust collect and observe stairs being stairs?"

Giving no excuse for his tardiness, Gregor sat heavily in his chair and grinned at all of them.

"I have received word from my men. Raff has not found your son yet, but he does know where he is and who is with him. Raff caught something else that might be even better." Tywin pursed his lips and stared with loathsome hatred at this large beast that keeps trying to go around and through orders.

"I told you to have your best man save Tyrion from humiliation and bring him home as safely as possible. As fast as possible. That was all. What could your man possibly catch besides my son that I would care about? If this Raff has information about where Tyrion is and who is with him, why is your man not already there trying to extract my son?"

Gregor smiled and nodded.

"I understand your concerns, Sir. And your son is perfectly safe and fine where he is. Turns out that Tyrion is also wanted by Viserys's sister to use as a hostage for negotiating with you. However, the dwarf apparently is very content to be this man's pet. In fact, it turns out that Tyrion is actively assisting two ferals in turning a bratty drug dealer into a fucking insane king. The fire queen and the dragon king are far in Targaryen territory battling over not only the dwarf but their separate kingdoms. Which means they left the entire Fire group within the hands of a sixteen year old girl, Shireen Baratheon."

Tywin glared and growled out his next words.

"I don't care what Tyrion might be trying to accomplish. Get my son out of his damned jester suit and collar and get him home! How hard is that for you to understand? And knowing that only the teenage girl is running the fire cult doesn't set our minds at any ease. We cannot attack, they will kill themselves to save that girl and their beliefs are bizarre, they are unpredictable. We already are fighting in the mountains with my own son, we don't have enough manpower to take down the fire cult before Dany returns to her compound. We can only hope that she and Viserys kill each other in their childish rages."

Kevan gave a grim smile to Tywin.

"That is the level you have driven that son of yours to. He is willing to create an enemy for you. Tyrion is a king-maker as well as a jester, aren't you proud of him now, brother?" Before Tywin could start a response, Olenna waved her hand dismissively.

"It is too warm of a day and too late of a start for this fighting. Accomplishes nothing and that would ruin my day. I hate my day being ruined. Gregor please just tell us what your man caught. That smug smile of your is disconcerting. I don't care for it, so please tell us so the smile will go back it's normal scowl."

Gregor smile grew wider causing Olenna to roll her eyes. "Raff caught Shireen Baratheon."

Varys and Petyr leaned forward, their eyes hungry and Olenna stared at Gregor intently.

"So help me, if you tell me that your man defiled and tortured or murdered that poor scarred creature! She might be on the wrong side of things, but she is a wee thing and harmless. A postage stamp or a flag for Dany to show and rally with."

"Oh, I can assure you that the girl is unharmed and not even scared. The lonely little girl was very taken with the man who mistakenly kidnapped her. Shireen thinks Raff is her new one and only and does as he asks. He is already inside the compound with his men, Shireen let them in without hesitation. Of course, they remain hidden for now but Shireen is listening to Raff more than her old advisors. We already own the compound, we've already won the battle, they just don't know it yet."

Kevan and Tywin had complete attention upon Gregor and the current situation now.

"Gregor, how trustworthy is your man? I recall meeting Raff several times but I do not know him as you do. This is a delicate situation, are you positive that Raff is able to stay focused, stay loyal? I mean, he is in a position that can cause great good or great harm."

Gregor sneered at Varys.

"I trust Raff more than I do any other besides Polliver! Raff has been with me since we were just little shits and there is no question of loyalty. The only question is how to use Shireen's loyalty to Raff before her crush ends or before the fire queen gets home."

Olenna narrowed her eyes.

"Then your man should continue his charms. I remember him, he was a handsome shifty one, wasn't he? I think we should act before the girl comes to any senses she might have. Sixteen years old is old enough to marry in our new world. Yes. Petyr, didn't you perform a few weddings for us this last year? I think that you should be given a quick shadowy escort to travel in Raff's footsteps. I want you in that compound and I want you to hitch up that lovely couple! Gregor, I want you to personally escort Petyr. Make sure that Raff understands he is no king by marrying Shireen. Just the handler of a tender teenage girl that needs the advice of her betters and elders. He is to be a pretty mouthpiece and that is that."

Tywin seemed to be thinking then he nodded. "Take the compound with as little bloodshed as possible but make sure that Dany has nothing to return to. Marry Shireen to your man, I want you to take both Varys and Petyr. They are shifty, they are excellent at plotting from unseen locations. Gregor, if I don't get back my son, then I better receive a compound and a married subdued princess willing to take our direction in exchange. Or else."

 


	62. By Chance

Arya's family had always tried to counsel her to patience. As did J and the Guidance ferals. She hates patience because it takes so damned long but hard times have taught her the virtue of the dreaded word.

So she dresses like one of the beggars near the huge stone atrocity that the king and his servants all live in. It is heavily guarded and in this city, crime can happen right in front of the place, this is a savage place to live. Somehow that doesn't bother her in the least.

Arya tries to imagine what her parents would have thought about her living among thieves, ferals, homeless and the criminals. It is harder and harder to remember them, any of them and it makes Arya sad. On rare occasion, she allows herself the luxury of wondering if anyone else survived. There are rumors and stories, gossip among those that share the fire barrels at night.

If a person has something to share, sell or offer, information can be had easily as well as anything else. If a person was careful not to get robbed, raped, sold or murdered. Or hooked on drugs or alcohol, both ran rampant. Their king was both a spiteful, petty man and an overly generous child wanting to be adored. Those Viserys gifts with power and riches or land, they are so crooked that Arya thinks they make the Boltons and the Wildlings sound like high school bullies.

Arya blackens her teeth with coal, she uses a mix of stolen cosmetics to create boils on her face, thighs, breasts and buttocks. Her hair is shorn to dull thin spikes and she wears the same stinking rags. She only washes when she cannot stand her own smell any longer. No one wishes to rape her, not after she deliberately made sure a few of the homeless saw those boils and lesions upon her body. No one wishes to rape a stinking, near bald, rotted toothed, diseased girl.

No one wants to hire, sell or try to rob that and why bother murdering her. She was a sight that anyone that didn't live at her level wouldn't want to look at. Arya was only seen by the other gutter rats. No one saw her and that exactly what Arya wanted.

"Do you think to go storming the castle? Or are you stalking a particular person or thing in there? You are lucky that the king and his followers are concerned about his sister visiting. If I notice you, eventually so would they. By the way, if it matters to you, you have rubbed off two of your boils on your left cheek."

She turned fast to see an elderly man with a bitter sharp look about him wearing a threadbare old fashioned military suit. Arya has seen him before, he lives in the same alley and uses the same restrooms, the same eating stalls. He was glaring at her as if indignant that she was so lousy at her spying mission.

"My name is Alliser Thorne. I was a general before the world went to hell. A top brass and a hard ass. Oh yes. And before that, when I was a younger man, I was running recon and I'll tell you, if I ever did as badly as you did, my superiors would have kicked my ass."

Snorting, Arya stretched and decided to give up her watch for the day.

"Does this mean you will give up my cover every time you see me?"

"Young lady, I have been observing you since you showed up pretending to be the leprous creature you are not. Now I do grant you that most will not see past your immature disguises and certainly no one will want to have any interest in your unappealing self. But there are other trained eyes, even sharper ones than mine that will notice you if they haven't already. I have not spoken of you to any other, why would I? I won't give you away, your inexperience will do that soon enough. Once our king's sister is dealt with, eyes will turn for any supporters or spies for her within the city. You might want to give that some thought." 

Arya bristled and stormed away, the man's laughter mocking her. That night she saw him at the food stalls, he was eating a bowl of stew, hunched over it like someone was coming to steal it. She bought her own stew with the money she managed to pick pocket that day and found herself plopping down on the bench across from him. Alliser said nothing, didn't even look up, they ate in silence. It was only after they finished their bowls and started to walk the same direction did Arya speak.

"Your uniform. It's from before, like way before. Before cannibals, way before. When there was one military, right?"

Alliser nodded sharply and stood tall, walked as if he were headed for a war council meeting.

"Yes. I was part of the last section of the military to fall. We were going to save the world. The Guidance Program."


	63. Autum Leaves And A Winter Queen

A tall slim blonde woman walked the high stone walls of her fortress. It surrounded her ever growing community. A proper human community. This was a woman who has tan skin that has wrinkles, has scars and cares little for her hair beyond keeping it short and clean. Her hands are callused and the nails are kept long and sharp not for design but for defense. These hands have been burnt, crushed, broken, wrung, splintered and grow back stronger for it. The feet are always bare in private and encased in thigh high brown leather boots in public. Dirt and tiny rocks that became part of the small cracks in her feet. The boots are not fashionable, they are old, cracked, repaired too many times but service her well.

The jeans are tight, threadbare or ripped in some places, grey in color. Her man's flannel shirt relieved the stark look of her, the blue of the shirt not having faded much yet. The tank top under the blue flannel was a dull olive color and was the same color as her utility belt. Three knives, a canteen, a small handgun and her personal pouch never left her side. Cersei buttoned her shirt and shivered as a chilly autumn breeze caught her. "It's going to be too cold to go around without more covering soon. Tell the trappers we need more furs, I want another scavenger party for winter clothing preparation. Get anyone who sews, knits or can learn to work with whatever they can find."

Pausing, the young woman following Cersei seemed to struggle with speaking. Cersei turned to raise a golden eyebrow. "Yes? If you are going to be my personal assistant, dear, you'll have to learn to open your mouth. In a better time, I would have loved you to be my yes man, but I don't have time for anything but blunt honesty these days. At least with the humans. So what is it? I won't get upset, just say it." Bernadette flushed slightly and thought to herself what a load of shit that was. The world was fucked royally and Cersei, Leader of the Northern Human Resistance was famous in both cannibal and human circles for her temper. It's true the woman was all about honesty these days but she was still mean as hell.

"Two messages came today. One by a damned owl that shit all over the room when he flew into the kitchen window. Our cook is furious. The other message came by arrow and was pinned to the tree near our southern security detail." That made Cersei tilt her head and wrinkle her nose a bit. "Ramsay always uses the owls but only cannibals ever leave a message with a threat attached. And we have not had any recent skirmishes large enough to give them need to start a taunt." Cersei watched Bernadette pull out the two letters and smooth them out. "The other one is from a human Southern army. It's from a man named Polliver who wishes to meet with you. He's the one leading the battle against the cannibals in the mountains. They are asking you for aid, to assist them in bringing down Jaime and Loras. He's offering to give you any assistance needed afterwards."

Cersei's eyes snapped in upset and her voice was tight. "And what was Ramsay's letter ranting about this time? Is he also looking to join forces? Or does he need to make an exchange of supplies tilted too far in his favor for anyone's liking again? He can take that up with our merchants but I want nothing offered to him that might impede us during winter." Bernadette sagged and then geared herself up to speak. "Cersei, will you at least meet with Polliver? I know you don't feel the mountain battle is our problem but you said yourself we need more before winter hits. They could help with supplies or give us a hand with making the fortress more secure for the winter. They just need a few more of us to help them and we are all humans against the cannibals, right? Ramsay is a cross breed madman and you'll deal with him rather than our own kind?"

 Bernadette regretted her words when her leader and boss spun to push her icy eyes and hollow yet lovely face into hers. The words were clipped, fast and as scalding as Cersei's breath in the chilly air. "Yes. I trust Ramsay more than Polliver. Ramsay is a North madman whom I know and understand. Polliver is the man who follows Gregor, who follows my father. Did you see my father, Gregor or Polliver offer us aid before now? Has the South done anything to contact or assist any Northern human that you know of? Hmmm? Even a story or urban legend of it, dear? No? No. Ramsay is a madman and cross breed and I trust him just enough to work with him. Ramsay and his group bring us news, medications and other things we don't have. And we can offer him items they don't have in return. He is the only group allowed to travel without true harm through almost any area. Styr gives Ramsay the same truce and trade we do. It's a delicate balance."

Cersei gave a cold smirk and moved back slightly while smoothing out Bernadette's hair, cut similar to her own.

"Listen to me, Bernadette. We must worry for our own and keep to what gets us to survive and grow stronger for one more day. Sending half our needed community to die in a battle that has nothing to do with us? What does that gain us? What if they lose, we lose too and gain the wrath of more cannibals. My brother and I have kept a truce to leave each other entirely alone. We cannot help what we are or what we used to be but it cannot define us now. The best we can do is agree not to try and murder each other." Cersei started to walk down the inner stairs towards the road and Bernadette followed, still listening. "Hell, Jaime and Loras refused to fall under Styr's leadership and they are on their own. All Jaime had to do was acknowledge that cannibal piece of shit as his king and the fight would be over. They would have sent him reinforcements and Polliver would be supper by now."

Cersei jumped lightly to the ground and smiled without feeling at the children that played nearby. A small pang for her own children hit her and Cersei ruthlessly suppressed it even as it strengthened her resolve. "I will not get involved, I will not hurt my position. It took me a long time and at great cost to create safe passages, roads and a few safe communities built again. I won't risk losing all of it. I won't risk all these families, all the others that believe I can keep them safe, that I can help them find a way to defeat our real enemies. I will respond, get me pen and paper, I'll tell him no but we wish him well. If he wins, he may certainly stop on by for some tea and trading."

Bernadette nodded and they entered a long wooden building that seemed to hold a small market of different supplies for sale or trade. "Oh, before you get that pen and paper, what does Ramsay want from me this time? Is he trying to get permission to enter the city, he knows I don't like him coming too close to our center. The outer village is close enough, if he wants to see me or show me something, I'll come out to the village." Bernadette sighed. "Ramsay does want permission to enter and to personally speak with you. I don't think he's going to like your answer. He says it's private and urgent. Does this matter to you?" Cersei raised her eyebrow at Bernadette. "What do you think, dear?"

Sighing to herself, Bernadette walked away feeling that she failed at her job.

**Author's Note:**

> The basic setting and some characters were created with inspiration I got from Shitmouth. So a big thank you to him!  
> Also MalcolmXavier for giving some much needed inspiration from his own story The Long Night.


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